


And if you leave, don't leave me all alone

by swishandflick



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dirty Talk, M/M, More tags to be added, Pining, Rimming, Smut, White House era, aka they meet before jon hires him, jonjon AU, or more like jonjon canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22608661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishandflick/pseuds/swishandflick
Summary: Maybe one day, Jon thinks wearily, watching Lovett type furiously with one hand, diet coke held loosely in the other, he and Lovett will get the timing right.But you might not, says the voice inside his head.He shuts it out.AKA Jon meets Lovett, falls into something with him,failstries desperately to fall out of it when Lovett ends up on his speechwriting team, and then follows him to LA when Lovett leaves the White House.
Relationships: Jon Favreau/Jon Lovett
Comments: 17
Kudos: 56





	1. Part One: Transition

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Life in the city by the Lumineers. 
> 
> This is a jonjon "what if they met before Jon hired him" AU. Featuring lots of pining, moping, a Tommy who's done with these two idiots, and a Dan who did not sign up for this shit. 
> 
> This is a three-part story, with part one set during the transition, part two during the white house era, and part three in LA. Look out for parts two and three in the coming days!
> 
> Please keep this secret and safe!
> 
> Unbeta'ed. I also finished writing and editing this during the NH democratic debate, so any mistake and error is <strike>not</strike>mine.

“An Old-fashioned, please. And a water, no ice.” 

Jon’s glancing idly around the room and thumbing through his phone, scrolling through his chat with Tommy to make sure he’s got the time of their meeting right. As he watches, another message comes in, a terse, punctuation-less _ sry dan and axe are still on, omy in abt 20_. Not meeting, his mind supplies, you’re not having a meeting with Tommy, you’re hanging out with Tommy. It was still hard to remember they weren’t campaigning anymore, that he doesn’t have to only think of time and space in terms of meetings and buses and makeshift offices, that they’re actually moving into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in slightly over a month, that they’ve _won._. Jon’s _so_ tired, he’s not sure why he’s meeting Tommy here, why he’s not in bed trying to catch up all the sleep he’s lost since they announced the campaign.

“Ginger beer. Oh, and a diet coke. With like, sixty percent ice. That’s what you like, yeah Jon?”

Jon turns at the sound of his name, and is about to turn back to the drink the bartender places in front of him when he catches sight of the Jon who was being addressed. There’s something vaguely familiar about him and his wild curly hair; Jon’s certain he’s seen him somewhere-

“Yeah Rory, Mr. I think ginger beer is the Hillary Clinton of drinks here.”

And then it hits Jon.

The man with this other Jon, Rory, laughs. “I have no idea what that means.”

Jon suddenly stands up, drink in hand, and has moved down the bar to the two guys before his brain starts screeching at him to stop.

The two men look up at him, and the one named Rory clears his throat. Jon notices that he’s good looking in a delicate way, hair slicked back from his sharp features.

Jon can feel his face heating up. _What the fuck are you doing, Jon?_, he thinks, but he finds himself turning to Rory’s friend Jon, who’s looking at him with the slightly raised eyebrows of someone who’s ready to turn back to what they were doing after they deal with the unwelcome disruption.

“Can we help you?” Rory says, but Jon has no interest in talking to him, he’s looking only at Jon Lovett as he blurts out, “I just wanted to thank you for helping me out with the Senator.”

Lovett’s eyebrows drop down and his expression clears, realization dawning on his face. “I thought you’d come here to gloat,” he whispers, before turning around to murmur rapidly to Rory, who had been watching Jon warily. Lovett then puts a hand on Jon’s shoulder and leads him to the other end of the long bar. 

Jon’s the wary one now as he sits on a bar stool, Lovett standing next to him, back against the bar. His hands feel sweaty, like when he was in Iowa in January and had them shoved inside jackets and hoodie pockets all the time. “My friend Rory is a reporter,” Lovett says, “no need to rehash all of that.” 

Jon’s face heats up again, or maybe it just becomes hotter than it previously was. “Thank you,and again, I am-” he starts, but Lovett cuts him off.

“Honestly, you apologized like fifty times over the phone so I believe that you regret the terrible thing you did, Favreau. Now are you buying me a drink or not?”

Jon blinks, mouth halfway open to make another apology when he catches sight of Lovett’s expressive eyes flitting back to his face from the open skin at the neck of Jon’s henley. _Oh._

“What would you like?” Jon asks, turning to signal to the bartender. The movement allows him to bite his lip in an attempt to stop it from trembling. _He can-maybe if he asks-_

Lovett glances at the drink in front of Jon, long since forgotten. “Whatever you’re having. Wait, is that whisky? Ew, not today.” He smiles at the approaching bartender. “Hi, can I have a cocktail? Can you make it pink? Mr. Buzzcut here will pay for it.”

Jon smiles into his drink.

xxx  
“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced!” Jon yells into Lovett’s ear as he grasps his hip with his hands, the two of them moving steadily through the crowd on the dance floor. He can feel the warmth radiating off of Lovett’s face; his black t-shirt is riding up a bit and the bare skin Jon can feel against his fingertips make them feel like they’re on fire.

Lovett turns in Jon’s arms to face him, eyebrows raised in that way that really looks fucking _coy_ to Jon. He can’t remember the last time he saw a more expressive face. He can’t stop looking at Lovett. He can’t understand why anyone would ever look away from Lovett.

_ “Jon Lovett, you should hear Isaac talk about him Jon, everyone loves him and he’s so funny, I think he’ll help you get over this clusterfuck-”_

“We did get introduced over the phone that time.”

Jon narrows his eyes at Lovett as he guides them to the middle of the dancefloor. It’s a wednesday night in early December so the floor isn’t too crowded, but neither of them move away from each other. 

“I hardly think that counts, Lovett.”

Lovett hums, and wraps his arms loosely around Jon’s waist so they’re standing with their arms around each other. “I was partially yelling at you then, so I guess we didn’t start off too well. Okay, go.” He punctuates this with a squeeze at Jon’s back, who jumps. 

Jon’s not sure what’s happening here, he feels as unmoored as when Senator Obama offered him a job a lifetime ago, when he was sitting at the bar with Lovett an hour ago and Lovett bumped his elbow against Jon’s on the bar, teasing Jon for being head frat boy of the Obama bro campaign. He clears his throat.

“Mmm, well, I am Jon Favreau, I work for Obama, and I think I am heading his speechwriting team at the White House next month.”

Lovett rolls his eyes as he slowly sways the two of them to the music, and Jon’s even charmed by how exaggerated the whole movement is. He also hadn’t realized they were even moving, and you couldn’t pay him to focus on the song they were moving to.

“I already know all that, and so does everyone in DC, Favreau.” Lovett pulls Jon close, so close that when he speaks next, Jon can almost feel his mouth on his skin, just like he can feel Lovett’s dark eyes boring deep into his. “Tell me something new. Like, have you done this before?”

Jon can feel his heart pounding so loud that he thinks that everyone in the club must be moving to the sounds of it. “Mostly only-only in college. And then in Chicago a couple of times when I hit the bars.” 

He wants to tell Lovett that it’s never been like this, that he’s never met anyone and immediately had the desire to pull them into his arms, touch their face, and talk to them for hours. He wants to ask Lovett if they can go back to the bar after this, if they can sit and talk for another hour. He wants to ask Lovett to tell him everything about himself, tell him everything about Jon. Lovett keeps looking at him like he _knows_, and then, somehow, pulls him even closer. Their whole bodies are flush against each other, Jon can feel _everything_, Lovett’s dick against his, Lovett’s compact frame seemingly all over him as they dance. Jon’s face feels so hot he thinks he’s going to burst into flames-he wants to, he wants to put his mouth over Lovett’s, kiss his neck, and the crinkles by his eyes when he laughs. He wants to make Lovett laugh.

“I was too busy writing about hope to get laid during the campaign.” That does it, Lovett laughs, and Jon feels it settle in his chest as deeply as when Lovett rests his head on Jon’s chest. “That sounds better than hooking up with strangers in Iowa when the only other option is the out reporter with CBS. And I don’t think I was desperate enough to sleep with a member of the press.” Lovett looks up at Jon. “If I’d known..”

Jon takes a breath, and jumps. He leans down and captures Lovett’s mouth in his, and he can swear his heart jumps like it’s some fucking cliched movie. He wonders if he should pop his foot out. Lovett tastes _so good_, like all the best things in the world, like Diet Coke, which Jon didn’t even know he _liked_ until then, like rum and honey. He doesn’t think he’ll ever want to stop, not when Lovett’s enthusiastically licking into Jon’s mouth, their hips slowly grinding into each other, all rhythm forgotten. He wants to ask Lovett if he wants to go home with him, if he wants to go get dinner-a drink, breakfast tomorrow, and then lunch and dinner, if he wants to visit the White House when they move in-

Jon’s not sure how long they stand there making out, he’s holding Lovett’s face between his hands and they fit-Jon doesn’t want to even _think_ about it in case he does something stupid and ruins this, but he and Lovett just _fit_.

Lovett leans back to draw a breath, not before pressing a kiss to the corner of Jon’s mouth. Jon looks at him, his mouth looks so obscene that he wants to say screw oxygen and press their lips together again. He’s about to ask Lovett if they want to get out of here. 

“You should apply to the speechwriting department, there’s an anonymous contest.” Jon blurts out, and then feels his face grow cold.

Lovett’s bright eyes and crazily mused up hair stare at Jon, who only registers that Lovett looks like that because of _him_, that he put his hands in Lovett’s hair and drew their faces together. He remembers Lovett’s hair had felt unbelievably soft. 

“What?” Lovett says, leaning back a little. 

Jon feels crazy. His head is pounding, like his brain is punishing him for ruining this, for ruining a chance at something with Lovett. But he soldiers on, because he knows they need this. 

“We want to hire another speechwriter,” Jon continues, his hand still pressed against the sliver of warm skin of Lovett’s back. “The transition team’s looking and we anonymized a cont-”

“I know, I was thinking about applying,” Lovett says, shrugging casually. He’s stepping back from the circle of Jon’s arms, his eyes not quite meeting his. 

Jon feels bereft, like the time when he was five and he’d let go of his mother’s hand in the botanical gardens. He tries to step closer to Lovett, to wrap him up in his arm again, but Lovett takes another tiny step back. Jon freezes.

“I might apply,” Lovett repeats. “Especially if you think it’s a good idea.” He then drops his eyes, and Jon watches his face twist into a grimace. “Jon-Favreau, I didn’t come here to hit on you for a job, you know.” He looks up finally, into Jon’s eyes, his expression hard. Jon still feels like he’s rooted to the sticky dance floor. “I don’t do that. And if you thought I am the kind who does, then you need to get away from me right now.”

Lovett’s turning around, like he’s going to walk away. 

“I just think you’re a good writer.” 

Lovett turns back to look at Jon, whose hands are twitching like they’re missing the feeling of Lovett’s face, Lovett’s soft skin at his hips.

“Maybe I’ll apply then,” Lovett repeats again, after what seems like an eternity of silence staring at each other from four feet away. “But I gotta go-I told Rory I’ll hang out with him-”

Jon can feel the scowl on his face before he sees Lovett’s eyes catch the furrow between his eyes. 

Lovett’s mouth twitches. He waves at Jon, and walks away without a word, without looking back.

Jon registers his ringing cell phone dimly as he stands alone in the middle of the dance floor.

Xxx  
_“This guy, or this one.” Dan says. Jon clutches at the first copy Dan places in front of him. They’re anonymized, but Jon’s willing to bet the Presidency on who it belongs to. _

“I thought it must be you,” Jon says, smiling at Lovett. He’s not sure why the blood in his head is crashing around his ears. “Who else in DC has ever been funny?”

_ Cody’s laughing, with Tommy shaking with laughter while leaning over his shoulder and pointing at a sentence for Cody to guffaw at. “I love this guy.”_

Lovett smiles, looking pleased, the tiny furrow between his eyebrows smoothening. “Hey now, I think the President-elect is very funny. Or can be. He is a natural at jokes, I loved that one about the deficit during that town hall.”

“Maybe you can help him keep at it then.”

Lovett looks at him steadily. Jon feels like he’s looking at him that moment before Lovett stepped back from his arms on that dancefloor, but somehow this time, there’s a glass wall between them. 

“I am saying yes- of course I am saying yes, but Jon, we need to-”

Jon clears his throat and interjects. “I know, Lovett.”

“I can’t do this with you-” Lovett continues, gesturing wildly, his arms almost slapping Jon in the chest. He feels a pang as he repeats, “Lovett, I know. We don’t- we don’t have to mention it in our employee history I think, we weren’t-you weren’t hired then and this was anonymous, but we obviously shouldn’t-”

He doesn’t finish. Lovett gets it.

“We can see where we are when we leave the job someday.” Jon exclaims. _ Stop talking now stop talking now stop talking now-_

Lovett laughs. The sound’s unlike anything Jon’s heard out of him before. 

“Maybe when he finishes his two terms and you leave the White House and I am back in New York headlining a stand-up.”

Jon smiles wearily at him. Suddenly, all he wants to do is leave this Starbucks, maybe ask Lovett if he wants to come to the office tomorrow to meet everyone, and then go and sleep for three days. He knows he’ll leave the Starbucks and write for at least another twelve, until Tommy comes and drags him out to dinner. 

“Don’t count your elections before they happen, Lovett.” Jon stands up, grabbing his bag and coat. “I’ll see you tomorrow if you want to swing by after your clearance appointment-you should talk to Ben about that by the way.”

“I can help you with the speech tomorrow if you’d like.” Lovett says, looking up at him. He looks tiny. Jon’s heart aches slightly. He dismisses it as anxiety about all the pages he still has to write.

“Yeah I’d like that,” Jon says, “Tomorrow.”

Lovett looks at him for a long second. “Tomorrow,” he echoes, and then waves at Jon, looking down into his phone. He doesn’t look back up. Jon walks away.

xxx

Jon’s half-crying, half-laughing as he hugs Tommy. He can see Dan and Alyssa over Tommy’s shoulder, holding each other tight. And behind them stands Lovett with Cody. As if he can feel Jon’s eyes on him, Lovett turns to him. They look at each other for a long second before Lovett smiles. Jon thinks the corners of his eyes look wet, but it might just be his own blurry vision.

He smiles back at him and buries his face into Tommy’s shoulder. 

xxxxx


	2. Part Two: The West Wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's part two! This one's the DC era. One thing I'd mention is that while this is chronological, it jumps between events quickly. Consider these as long snippets from moments in time than a proper retelling of everything that went on during those years.
> 
> This also got wayyy too long, so I hope you enjoy it nevertheless!
> 
> Please keep this within the fandom, keep it safe!

“So it’s a coup?”

“It’s a coup.” Jon’s stretched out on the battered couch in the office Lovett shared with Cody. Tommy had stopped by hours earlier to drop off a bottle of wine. 

“What rhymes with coup?”

“...Soup?”

“Jon,you’re the head speechwriter. For the President of the goddamn United States.”

“I am also drunk. This wine is really bad. Also why are you rhyming words in the speech? Is he going to brief the state of the union as spoken word poetry?”

“Wow grandpa, I thought I told you not to go down those late night youtube spirals. And I knew Tommy was lying about being a wine sommelier.”

“I am barely two years older-”

“Yeah yeah we know. I am going to find Cody, he’ll tell me what rhymes with coup.”

“Yeah good luck, I better go make sure Dan hasn’t killed our chief of staff yet. Can we meet later tonight to finish the last section?”

Jon’s stretching as he walks to the door unsteadily. He hopes Dan isn’t actually with Rahm, he doesn’t fancy meeting his judgemental eyes when Jon’s less than sober, but he needs a break from being alone with Lovett, from Lovett’s _Lovettness_. He laughs to himself, and desperately wants to turn around and share the joke with Lovett, who will groan at how bad it is, but still _laugh_. When he looks back at him though, he finds his eyes flitting back up rapidly to meet Jon’s eyes.

“Okay Lovett?”

“Yeah,”Lovett says, “I’ll be here early tomorrow too, if you just want to go home and sleep this off.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ve got staff at seven, so 7:30?”

“Okay, I never said I’ll come in at the crack of dawn Jon, you’re a cruel tyrant. Nine.”

“Eight.”

“Eight thirty, take it or leave it.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Fine. And if you’re not here then you’re fired.”

“_Such_ a bully. And you’ll never get anything done without me, so stop threatening me, you big frat boy.”

_I know that,_Jon thinks, and is immensely glad that Lovett can’t read minds like that legimens thing that Alan Rickman does in that Harry Potter movie Lovett made him sit through the past weekend.

xxx

Jon thinks it’s going to be weird. Before the inauguration, he even works through multiple increasingly desperate scenarios for if and when things go south with Lovett. The first part’s easy; he’s determined that he’ll make him feel as welcome as any other speechwriter, as any of the others who’ve been part of the campaign. Any weirdness Lovett might feel about joining in late, and from the ‘enemy’ camp, dissipates soon enough on learning how much everyone likes him already. He’s so effortlessly charming that he routinely makes Obama guffaw loudly.

As for the other thing, Jon isn’t really sure what to do beyond hoping he can try to be Lovett’s friend, make Lovett like him enough to hang out with him. “It can only get better”, he thinks. And one of these days he’ll stop remembering pink, pink lips when he sees a diet coke. 

It’s made easier by the fact that Lovett seems to act like he’s never seen Jon before they met at Starbucks. Jon tries not to think about Lovett having forgotten already. It makes his heart drop to his navel every time.

Tommy helps too, because Tommy always helps. He and Lovett get on so well that Jon’s part jealous but mostly happy that Lovett’s already gotten someone he feels comfortable enough with to tease them incessantly. He has to wipe his face clean whenever he sees Lovett wrestle Tommy on the couch for the remote, because _we’re not watching more men beating balls with sticks or their legs Tommy_. Tommy always acquiesces, always with a huff that he offsets by a fond ruffle to Lovett’s hair that gets swatted away. Jon wonders if he’d be able to have that kind of ease with him, if he’d never met Lovett in that bar, if they didn’t have this thing subtly tinting every interaction. He even wonders, in those moments when Tommy and Lovett are hanging out in the office with Cody, and Jon comes in with something from the mess for Lovett, if Tommy _knows_. He always has a knowing look when Lovett smiles at Jon and then immediately chastises him for not getting him enough peanut butter. But Tommy couldn’t, Jon’s never spoken about it with anyone. Not even Lovett, not after the fact.

xxx

Rashida’s amazing.

Jon gets teased incessantly for dating Karen from the Office, and it's mainly Cody who instigates it, calling Jon “Jim” about five times a day. He takes her to meet everyone for drinks on a Friday. Lovett and Rashida walk to the bar together multiple times, buying each other pink cocktails. Jon thinks that this could, maybe, really work. It’s early days, but he’s hopeful.

Tommy corners him in his office one day, a few days before the Correspondents’ dinner speech. Their first one.

“Rashida’s amazing man, I mean I’ll never know how someone as smart as her chose you-”

“Fuck you, Tommy.”

Jon’s laughing, but it quickly dies down at Tommy’s next words.

“We should all hang out, you and Rashida, I’ll bring Katie, and maybe Lovett can bring that guy from OMB he’s been seeing.”

Jon has to turn away to busy himself with some papers on his desk. He recognizes Lovett’s handwriting on several of them.

Jon’s been trying to ignore it, is the thing. He’s been faking blindness when he sees Lovett smile at a text. He shrugs and snottily reminds Lovett to eat his vegetables when he stops taking lunch breaks with Jon but walks to the OMB. He’s gotten really good at it. He’s not sure how much he can will the guy out of existence though, if he’s sitting across Jon at dinner, making Lovett smile.

“Or is that going to be too weird for you? I’ll ask Lovett too, I guess-”

Jon freezes. Tommy’s looking at him knowingly, and perhaps with a smidgen of smugness and impatience.

“Tommy..”

“Don’t worry Jon, Lovett spilled the beans before you did.”

“Lovett told you?” Jon yelps.

Tommy frowns. “He didn’t mean to, I think. He let slip that he met you at a bar during the transition. I just..put two and two together.”

Jon’s dumbstruck. He’s marooned; what do you tell your best friend after you hide the fact that you met and made out with your _other_best friend during the transition?

Tommy spares him. “Listen, let’s not make a big deal out of this. It was a one time thing, yeah? I wouldn’t have told anyone, of course not, but I get why you, or Lovett, didn’t want to tell anyone. And you guys obviously wouldn’t do anything here now-”

Jon remembers reading about alternate, parallel universes in a book in middle school. He’s forgotten the name, has never given it any thought, but three months ago Lovett had come into work all excited because _the new season of Doctor Who is phenomenal, Jon, I can’t believe David Tennant’s leaving soon. _ Jon asks Lovett what it’s about, and gets a too detailed, almost episode-by-episode account. It’s around then he starts wondering about the parallel universe where he and Lovett had finished what they started at the bar. If they’d stayed up late, then grabbed breakfast early the next morning. Maybe dinner that Friday night. Or, he always liked this too, if Lovett had been on their campaign. If he’d run into him when they worked for Kerry back in 2004. 

Or what if Lovett never applied to the job at the White House.

He doesn’t like that one. 

“No,” Jon sputters out. “I am sorry Tommy,” he adds, softer now. It’s for almost yelling at him. But he hopes Tommy knows it’s also for not confiding in him. Jon steps closer. “It was a one-time thing. Of course it won’t happen again.”

Jon pretends he doesn’t feel a pang in his heart, just like he pretends that Tommy isn’t looking at him with something that Jon doesn’t want to think is pity. 

xxx

Tommy doesn’t bring up triple dating with Lovett again. A few weeks later, Jon notices with smugness he tries hard to conceal, Lovett walking in to harangue him about going down to lunch. And then does it again the next day. And the rest of the week.

“Jon,” Lovett whines. “I am doing all, ALL the work for this speech. I am the comedy writer! I was born to write this! Feed me.”

“Lovett, you literally just ate half of Cody’s ham and cheese. And I told you, if we wait until 3 they’ll have dessert. That milk pudding thing you like.”

Lovett’s eyes brighten a bit. “Okay, you’ll have to buy me two of those.”

Jon smiles and reads over his notes. “Okay, but don’t you also want the white chocolate mousse?”

Lovett lets out another whine. Jon-Jon really needs him to stop doing that.

“Okay! One of the mousse. Mousses? Whatever, one of those, and then one of the pudding things.”

Jon leans forward. “If you’re good and give me this draft in an hour I’ll even get one of the pudding cups myself, so you can have bites of it when you’re done with yours.”

Lovett stares at him. Jon thinks he’s flushed around the neck. It’s hard to tell, because Lovett’s shirt today is baby pink. It looks good on him, like everything looks good on him. Jon looks down quickly, pretending to edit a sentence. Lovett doesn’t say anything.

When it’s 3pm, he races down into the mess and buys the pudding cups and the mousse, hand delivers them all to Lovett, and carries the smile on Lovett’s face with him the rest of the day.

xxx

“This is so cool!” Rashida laughs, sitting down at their table. The room’s already crowded. Jon sees a reporter he sassed at some point last week, and quickly sits down.

“Lovett! Over here!”

Jon whips around so fast he tries to discreetly rub the crick in his neck, pretending Tommy, Rashida, and Cody aren’t all staring at him.

When he sees Lovett, he can’t bring himself to care.

Lovett looks-he’s in a suit, black and sleek, with a midnight blue bowtie. His eyes are bright when he walks towards their table, his smile lighting them up. 

He’s the prettiest thing Jon’s ever seen.

Rashida holds her hand out and Lovett takes it, letting himself be pulled into the chair next to her.

“You look so good! I can’t wait for the speech, Lovett! Jon says you’re the funniest person in the city, I gotta agree from what I’ve seen.”

Lovett locks eyes with Jon for a moment. Jon is glad for a reason to not take his eyes off of him.

“Jon’s obligated to say that, he hired me.” 

Jon manages a laugh. “He also bribed me to tell people that.”  
Lovett smiles at him, rolling his eyes. He then leans over and neatly steals a roll from Jon’s plate. Tommy and Cody look between them.

“Do you want to try in the industry some day, you think? People in LA will love you.” 

Lovett opens his mouth to respond to Rashida when the lights flicker a couple of times. It must be time. Jon watches as Lovett sits up straight in his seat, dinner forgotten. It’s Jon’s first time at the Correspondents’ dinner too, but he thinks watching the reaction to every joke and line on Lovett’s face is worth him missing about a quarter of the night.

xxx

Rashida gives him a long hug and a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night.

“I am so happy for you and all the guys. You work for one funny person.” 

“Thanks,” Jon smiles at her. “Give me a second to say goodnight to everyone and I’ll walk you to the hotel.”

Rashida looks at him, opens her mouth for a second like she’s about to respond, and then closes it again.

“Sure.”

xxx

“Jon!”

Lovett’s walking up to him through the narrow corridor. His face is shining.

“I’ve been looking for you-that was so amazing! Didn’t he do so well? He’s so funny, he could almost perform stand-up.”

Jon laughs. “They’re all your words, Lovett.”

Lovett preens. “Not all of them. Because my department head is a goddamn micromanager. Anyway, where’s Rashida? Tommy went home to change but he said to meet him back here to go get drinks.”

Jon swallows. He shrugs exaggeratedly. He’ll play it casual, even if his mind is still reeling a bit from Rashida’s words.

“We..we broke up I think. I just walked her to her hotel.”

Lovett gapes, openmouthed.

“What? Why? I liked her! Jon, you prat, what did you do?”

_”Jon, don’t take this the wrong way, really, I like you so much and this has been so fun, but I don’t think I want to compete with Lovett for your affections. That’s not fair to me._

“Nothing. It just..ran its course.”

_I met you a year ago and now I can’t think about anyone else._

Lovett sputters. Jon can see this turning into an indignant rant, knows Lovett likes Rashida.

“Ran its course? What are you, a publicist? What happened?”

Jon wonders for a moment if he should tell Lovett. He wonders what that might lead to.

“Really, nothing happened. We’re just busy people-”

Lovett looks like he’s about to argue. Jon _can’t_.

“Drop it, Lovett. And I think I am just going to turn in, I am pretty beat.”

Lovett looks at him long and hard for a second, and then, thankfully, falls quiet. They walk down the corridor towards the doorway where they’ll separate, Jon turning left to the exit, Lovett walking through to the office. Lovett walks ahead. Jon hasn’t seen his suit from the back, it frames every curve of his body so well-

“You look really good today, Lovett. You should wear this more often.”

Lovett stares at him from across the long hallway, and Jon expects him to turn around and walk away, maybe with one of his tiny waves. Lovett keeps looking at him though, his eyes dark and deep, reflecting the fluorescent lights that he always complains are too bright. _Mood lighting will greatly improve productivity in this place, Jon._. Jon doesn’t even want to move, and he feels oddly calm, even after showing Lovett his hand. Partially.

“Thanks,” Lovett murmurs, and Jon thinks he’s about to say something else, can swear he can see Lovett’s mouth open just a fraction to shape around a word, but then Lovett walks through the door, and disappears into the swathes of the west wing.

xxx

“Oh” Jon says again. It’s his third one, and he’s acutely aware of the fact that he hasn’t said anything else, can’t remember anything beyond what Lovett’s just said.

“Okay Shakespeare, you need to say something else. Like how I am going to be so great in LA and I will win at least two Emmy’s.”

“Of course you will,”Jon says, realizing a second later that it had come out on autopilot, robotic and a bit condescending. When he looks properly at Lovett, his hands are clenched together over his stomach and he’s looking pissed, eyes full of fire. Lovett’s always ready for a fight, and Jon wishes he could convey that he doesn’t need to be right now.

“This is why, this is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Lovett starts, his voice shrill. 

“Lovett, I am happy for you. You just kind of sprung it on me, that’s all.” 

Jon feels like he’s soothing a wild deer, he’s not even what that analogy _means_, but Lovett only looks more annoyed, if anything. His mouth’s twisting into a comment that Jon knows will hurt.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you my every thought while making a huge change to my fucking life, Jon! Bullshit! You don’t say anything for ten minutes and now you’re happy for me?”

Lovett’s yelling now, and Jon feels like his head’s going to explode, and his chest hurts like when an airplane picks up speed on a runway. He clears his throat, and hopes his voice doesn’t betray him.

“Lovett, I swear. I really am happy for you, and I am not asking you to-to tell me anything,” he says quietly. His mouth’s quivering, and Jon bites down on it once quickly, _hard_.  
His voice sounds like he hasn’t spoken for days.

“You can’t expect me to not be surprised, one of my friends is leaving, and leaving my team, and I just didn’t know that you were unhappy here, that’s all.” Jon falls quiet, feeling dissatisfied, like maybe he should tell Lovett more, tell him about how it feels like he’s leaving the team _because_ of Jon, because Jon can never stop wearing his fucking heart on his sleeve, can never stop making things periodically weird between them. He wants to tell Lovett that he’ll try better, wants to lie and say that he’s over whatever brief tryst they had three years ago, and that Lovett has nothing to worry about.

“I am not unhappy,” Lovett says, just as quietly as Jon. He runs a hand through his short hair. In some of his very bitter, cruelest, irrational moments, Jon sometimes thinks that he misses the curls as much as he misses the Lovett from the bar. He says nothing.

“This job runs its course though, you know that. I can’t do this forever. I am not you, Jon.”

It stings, and perhaps Lovett realizes it, because he plows on. “I don’t mean that I don’t like the work, you’ve got to know how much I like it here by now, come on. I don’t just take naps at every job, you know?” 

He smiles slightly. Jon wants to reach out, always wants to reach out and touch his face. He doesn’t.

“And besides, I really want to try this. I think I might like it there.”

“You’ll also like not writing into dawn every other week.”

Lovett scoffs. “Okay, now let’s not get ahead of ourselves. My kind works best when it’s on a deadline.”

“More like it works after a deadline when someone yells at you for the draft.” Jon murmurs. This feels familiar, and he’s thankful to Lovett for steering this conversation back to safe waters. 

“Hey, they were great drafts. Don’t rush genius, Jon.” Lovett sniffles. He’s clearly trying not to smile. 

“They _were_ pretty great drafts.”Jon looks into Lovett’s eyes. He can do this, he can give Lovett this simple, supportive friendship he’s clearly asking for, even when it feels like Jon’s own heart is breaking. He can deal with that later. Lovett first.

“You’ll be so good in LA, Lovett. You’re a great writer. ” The line comes to him through the intervening years, and for a second Lovett’s younger, has a head full of curls, and is staring at him with swollen lips from across a dancefloor. _His_ Lovett though, in front of him now, looks down, his cheeks pink. 

“I can’t wait to tell people the showrunner of the best political drama ever is my friend. Sorkin better watch out.”

Lovett looks up at that, his eyes full of light. His cheeks are still tinged pink. It makes him look so young, and Jon wants nothing more than to pull him into his arms.

Instead, he reaches out and places a hand on Lovett’s shoulder briefly. He can’t think of anything else to say, it’s like his brain has thrown out all the words he could manage, and now that he’s exhausted them all, his legs are ready to take flight.

“I won’t tell the team before you do,” Jon says, stepping back. “And we can go get a drink before you take off.”

Lovett rolls his eyes. “Okay, you have to help me pack. I am telling Cody and Tommy tomorrow. And then the bossman too.”

“I don’t think Barack will join the packing party,” Jon says, waiting for Lovett’s predictable groan and eye roll.

He’s got to start saving those up.

“Okay, get out now, I still have to finish editing this mess Rob made,” Lovett shoos him out. Jon walks to the door of the office and looks back at him. Lovett’s already got his eyes glued to his computer.

Jon walks next door into his office, shuts the door, falls on the couch, and doesn’t move until Tommy knocks twenty minutes later.

xxx

“You’ll still talk to us nerds out here when you move to the sunshine state, right? When you’re a bigshot Hollywood writer and showrunner?”

“I don’t know Tommy, will that make you stop talking in clichés?” Jon laughs at Lovett’s voice drifting in from the kitchen as he uncorks the beers and passes one to Dan. Someone’s turned on the fairy lights Lovett hung on the railing last Christmas, and the whole scene is washed with gentle yellow light. Jon likes it. 

Dan looks at him, his shirt sleeves rolled up, leg propped up on the ragged ottoman in front of him. Jon thinks amusedly that he’s probably never seen Dan in anything other than slacks, even back during the campaign. He wonders how he’ll look after they finish out their jobs here, three, five years down the line, if he’ll wear tee shirts with political slogans, quotes from their President.

“Are you okay, then? Handling this well?” 

Jon’s jerked back to reality by Dan’s voice, and he takes a second to process the question. He shrugs and nods, taking a slow sip of his beer.

“I am fine.”

“I meant about Lovett.”

“Yeah I know, we’ll start looking for another person, I’ve already spoken to Alyssa about getting the word out to our circles, but Lovett did promise me he’ll come back for State of the Union to “make sure it’s not as dry as shredded wheat.””

Dan smiles at the air quotes Jon adds. 

“We’ll be fine. I meant, are _you_ okay?”

Jon stares at him. “Yeah I just said-”

“Listen, I don’t want to be crossing any lines here, and this is none of my business, but we’re friends, so I just wanted to check in and see you’re..you’re dealing fine with Lovett leaving. Personally.”

Jon can’t think of anything to say. Dimly, he registers what Dan’s getting at, perhaps he knew from the first “are you okay?”, but how did Dan-

“I can’t even imagine how I’d be if Howli decided to leave, you know.” Dan says. 

Jon feels his blood run cold. Dan seriously can’t think- “Dan, Lovett and I aren’t together.” 

It bursts out of him shrilly, and he clamps up immediately, fearful that Lovett would have heard, that he’ll come bursting out of the kitchen. 

“Jon, I know-” Dan starts, but Jon’s going off, almost desperate now. “You can’t think I would, that Lovett would, we would jeopardize our jobs, he works on my team, I definitely wouldn’t do-”

“Jon, I know.” Dan says, holding up a hand to cut Jon off. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said-I meant, you guys obviously have..a connection that perhaps complicates all of this, yes. I am not implying you’re unprofessional.”

Jon can feel his blood still rushing through his head rapidly, but he’s glad that the urge to keep saying words is at least paused for now. So _everyone_ knows. 

“So does everyone know?” Jon’s voice is still shrill, and he wants to throw himself off the balcony.

Dan raises his eyebrows. “Does everyone know that you and Lovett are close? Yeah Jon, we’re not blind.”

Jon tries hard not to sound too pleading. “Tommy and I are close.”

Dan looks like he’s trying very hard not to roll his eyes. “Don’t deflect Jon, you know what I mean.”

Jon gulps his beer down, setting the empty bottle on the table. From the kitchen, Jon can hear Lovett’s laughter again, Cody’s voice mingling with it.

“We-we met right after we won, at a bar. Ran into each other.”

Jon leaves it to Dan to decipher what that means. Dan blinks. Of course he gets it.

“But he’s leaving now..so you guys can try?”

Jon stands up. He needs another drink, and they’re probably out of the good beer. Shit.

“I don’t think Lovett’s into me like that. Do you want whisky? Or wine?”

Dan leans forward, staring directly at Jon, who’s not sure he wants to hear this. He kind of just wants to be inside, with Lovett. Who’s leaving in two days. When Dan speaks, Jon thinks it sounds like he’s being very careful, weighing every word. Jon’s been around enough press people to know how to spot that.

“Jon, if you’re making this conclusion based on whatever limited data you have, I will only urge you to reexamine and just, open your eyes and look at everything again. And I’ll just stop there.”

Jon has a headache. He needs to go inside. Wine. Maybe water.

“Wine or whisky, Dan?”

Dan sighs. “I might get some water. I’m too old for this.”

Jon nods tersely and walks inside. It’s cool, the air conditioner blasting at full speed. Lovett grins brightly at him as he spots Jon, in the middle of mixing a befuddling orange drink for Cody.

Two more days. 

xxx

Jon stops by Lovett and Tommy’s apartment three hours before Lovett’s plane is set to depart. It’s 5:42 am but he’s in his suit, clutching a bag of bagels from the deli around the corner from the White House.

Tommy opens the door for him, still in his pajamas, clutching a mug of coffee.

“Come in, he’s in the kitchen. He’s testy, he just finished packing his carry-on. We didn’t really sleep, after you left. Are those bagels? I need to go shower, we leave in fifteen?”

Jon nods, and wordlessly holds out the bag. Tommy takes a bagel, claps Jon on the shoulder, and runs up the stairs.

Jon walks on into the kitchen.

“Hey.”

Lovett’s sitting on the counter, feet swinging back and forth, drinking out a large _Yes we can_ mug. He doesn’t say anything, but makes grabby hands at the bagels.

Jon steps up to the counter, smiling. He pulls the everything bagel out, Lovett’s favorite, and the tub of cream cheese. Lovett watches as Jon spreads the cheese on the bagel and hands it over with an embarrassed smile.

“Nice. I really need to move more often if this is the Jon Favreau treatment that I am suddenly eligible for.”

Jon spreads cream cheese on his own bagel. “Like I don’t buy you lunch more than once every week.”

Lovett takes a huge bite, and then speaks through it. “Only what a humble employee who’s serving his country in the White House deserves. Or, former employee. I am an unemployed citizen now.”

“Not for too long, Lovett. You know what Rashida said. Everyone in LA is going to want a piece of you soon.”

Lovett scoffs theatrically, but continues eating. Jon swallows the last of his bagel and straightens up. He knows Tommy would walk down in a couple of minutes. They’d ride the metro to the office. And Lovett would call his cab, and board his flight, and never call DC his home again.

“You want water?” Lovett murmurs, jumping down from the counter. “Or a diet coke? There’s still two left and I don’t know if I can finish both of them in an hour.”

Jon shakes his head, resisting the urge to smile. “I have complete faith in you.”

“I suppose you want to hug me before you go, then?” Lovett raises his eyebrows. “Oh my god, Tommy wouldn’t stop clinging to me before we went to bed last night, who knew Boston bros were so emotional.”

Jon’s openly laughing when he moves to Lovett to pull him into his arms. Lovett comes, grumbling.

But then-there’s no other way to describe it, Lovett then clings to Jon like he wants to crawl inside him, slipping his arms beneath his wrinkled suit jacket and burying his face into the crook of his neck. There isn’t an inch of them that isn’t pressed together, and Jon has been wearing his suit for two days now, and he must smell musty, and not for the first time or even the fiftieth time in his life, Jon thinks that Lovett deserves way better than to be holding his musty self up again. He feels grounded for the first time today, for the first time since Lovett told him he was leaving. Or maybe it is the first time since they won.

No one really spoke about what they’d lost in turn, least of all Jon.

They stay on the spot, tightly holding each other for however long they’re allowed to, or however long they had before Tommy would come to Jon so they could leave. Jon tries to commit to memory what he knows might be the last time for a very long time.

“Tommy’s coming down, by the way. That’s him trying to lock his shitty door.”

“You took the nice bedroom.”

“Yeah, well. That’s what I deserve, living with a bunch of straight men, Favreau. Honestly-”

“I’ll miss you.”

The words are spoken into Lovett’s neck, and Jon knows that if Lovett pulled back now to look into his eyes, he would deny ever having given voice to the one thought that’s been slowly permeating his brain the last couple of months.

Lovett then makes to pull back, but Jon only clutches tighter. Lovett gets in then, and silently buries his face back into Jon’s neck. 

Jon wonders how musty Lovett thinks he smells.

Any minute now.

“Jon, Tommy.”

Jon lets go completely then, all at once, stepping back so they go from touching everywhere to no contact at all. Quick severances. Ripping a bandaid off, or something like that.

They look at each other for the first time since they hugged. It feels like hours,or several days, and Jon slowly extends a hand and touches it to one bony shoulder, slides it slowly down the smooth surface of Lovett’s blue t-shirt, stopping right above his heart.

Lovett brings his hand to curl over Jon’s. He’s wearing his Darth Vader watch, the one Jon had given him for his birthday last year, and it bumps against Jon’s wrist.

They don’t stop looking at each other, all in silence punctuated by the clicked sounds of Tommy’s fast approaching footsteps down the stairs.

Lovett drops his hand.

Jon draws his away, and turns away with one final glance at Lovett, wanting to leave before Tommy could say anything that could bring their lives into this bubble.

Tommy passes him wordlessly, and moves to hug Lovett. Jon’s got his back to them, he can hear Lovett laugh, say something to the effect of “Get some sleep tonight Tommy”. Jon isn’t sure, his ears are buzzing a bit, like they did when the President first made him director of speechwriting. He turns and smiles at Lovett’s lovely, familiar, sad face, and walks out of the house, into the dawn.

Tommy falls into step next to him barely a moment later. He doesn’t say anything on their short walk to the subway. Jon loves him so fiercely at that moment that he allows himself to think, for a brief second, that maybe he’ll be okay.

On the train, Jon finds himself checking his phone absently. Tommy lets him rest his head on his shoulder, and doesn’t say anything.

xxx

Lovett comes back for the State of the Union, bringing with him a mountain of snow. Jon’s with the President and can’t meet him for three hours. He steals a glance at his phone during a second the President's stepped out and sees that Lovett has texted him that he’s arrived.

“With cody. there are zero jokes in this, buy me dinner for fixing all of your lack of humor”.

The President steps back into the Oval office and Jon gets up automatically, discreetly trying to fix the crick in his back. 

“You should go see Lovett, I’ll send you these edits after I meet with Axe. Dan said he’s terrorizing Cody and needs a stabilizer.” 

Jon’s not sure why he’s blushing when he lets himself out a minute later. “No the President was not smirking at you, Jon,” he mutters, turning blindly into the speechwriters’ wing. As he approaches Cody and Lovett’s (just Cody’s, he mentally corrects) office, he can decipher excited voices, one of them more distinct than others.

Dan, Tommy, and Cody are around Lovett, who’s perched on top of the table, his hands swinging wildly in the air, clearly telling a story. They’re probably tales of LA, about the creepy producer who Lovett reported to the production house, about his script, all things Jon’s heard already on the phone. 

“Jon!” Lovett exclaims, spotting him by the door. “Jon, Cody thinks I am making up that story about that dude and the oat milk, Jon, tell him.”

Jon walks in.

Three hours later, they’re holed up in Jon’s office, Lovett viciously editing through large sections of the speech. His hair’s much longer now than it was when he worked here, the curls falling into his eyes in a way that’s really distracting. Jon has to look up at him every other minute. 

“You know, I might come down to LA in May. There’s a fundraiser, I might see Andy.”

Lovett looks up. “I know, the President mentioned it when we met. He said I should come, make those Hollywood liberals donate to him.”

“You want to-you want to hang out then? Show me the sights?”

Lovett looks at him. “Yes Jon, you moron, I will find it in me to hang out with my DC friend the one time he comes to my state, and then runs away screaming never to be back because it’s too west coast.”

“I might like it there, Lovett, you never know.”

Lovett sighs. “You’re an East coast frat boy. Of course you’ll hate it.”

“You grew up in Long Island.”

“Exactly. New York and LA have a kinship.”

Jon shakes his head, turning back to his own computer.

Maybe one day, he thinks wearily, watching Lovett type furiously with one hand, diet coke held loosely in the other, he and Lovett will get the timing right. 

But you might not, says the voice inside his head.

He shuts it out.

Maybe one day, when they are on the same page, in the same place. And on that day, maybe Jon will have the courage to ask again. 

_Open your eyes, the Dan in his mind says, looking at Jon._

He shuts it out.

xxx

Lovett’s house is...messy. There’s clothes and shoes everywhere, empty Diet coke cans on several flat surfaces, even one wedged between the sofa cushions. Jon counts three yellow legal pads on the coffee table, with notes that he’s itching to read this second. 

A watch with a Darth vader on it, on the side table where Jon knows Lovett charges his phone.

Jon laughs as he spots a picture of him, Tommy, and Lovett, with their arms around each other, mouths open in laughter, looking at each other. It was from the 2011 correspondents’ dinner, their last official one with Lovett. Jon still listens to the Lion King soundtrack on long drives. He cracks up every one of those times.

“You guys look like dweebs,” Andy comments, stopping in front of the frame Jon’s examining. 

“Whatever, I am still cooler than you.”

“Whatever, I am an actual actor.”

Jon’s about to retort when Lovett comes into the living room, changed into pink shorts and a black tee shirt.

“Okay, let’s go. California Pizza Kitchen, Jon, the finest LA has to offer.”

xxx

“Is there anything special here? Like something I should try?”

He knows Lovett’s going to roll his eyes before he sees it happen. “Special. In a California pizza kitchen.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me eat here Jonathan.”

Lovett rifles through the menu. “Shut up, this is good. And you’re here for two days, you can’t complain that I haven’t shown you around. Stay longer next time, if you want to take pictures at the walk of fame.”

“How about a picture now?” Jon holds up his phone and clicks it just as Lovett glances up and smiles awkwardly over the menu. He’s beautiful. Jon’s missed him _so_ much.

“Okay, you can’t take any more until next year.” 

Andy returns from his phone call. “Molly says hi,” he calls, sitting down next to Lovett. “Did we decide on what we’re getting?”

“Jon wants a true LA hipster pizza with like, rose petals on it. “

“Oh, there’s a restaurant on Sunset-”

“No Andy, I am _hungry_,” Lovett whines. His mouth’s stained red from the wine he’s complained is shitty. Jon’s not sure if it’s the heat or his sheer exhaustion, because he’s seen Lovett wine drunk and with pink lips too many times to count over the past years, but he’s never found it harder than now to not lean over the table and kiss him. Taste the shitty wine on his lips.

“Jon, do you want to split the mushroom one?” Lovett stops short when he catches sight of Jon, who’s a split second too slow in averting his gaze from Lovett’s mouth. Jon watches as a blush spreads low on his neck. He wants to pull Lovett’s t-shirt aside, trace the redness down his body.

_Jon, stop._

“Jon,” Andy nudges him. “If we don’t order now they’ll kick us out. Only half an hour to closing time.”

They rush through their orders and then the pizzas, Jon not really tasting anything that he eats. Lovett doesn’t speak much, at least not to Jon, only stealing glances at him when Andy’s talking animatedly about shoots. Jon’s looking back every time. He doesn’t look at other people too much when Jon Lovett is in the room; one of the embarrassing self realizations Jon’s learned over the last three years.

The blush remains on Lovett’s chest, becoming redder with ever stolen glance. Jon’s hand itches, his whole body’s thrumming with something like electricity. He wants to go home, go back to Lovett’s. 

He wonders if it’s too much to hope that maybe it is time. Finally. 

Xxx

Andy hugs him as he drops them off. Jon knows he should talk to him some more, maybe ask Lovett if it’s okay if his little brother comes in for another drink before the call comes in to whisk Jon away, but all he wants, _needs_ now, is a door separating him from everyone not named Jon Lovett.

Jon follows Lovett as he unlocks the door, blinking at the sudden brightness as the lights are turned on. Lovett drops his keys on the side table, fumbling with his pockets for a second and fishing his phone out. He looks at it, then drops it on the table. Picks it up again. Then puts it back in his pocket.

“Hey.” Jon comes to a standstill behind him. He’s about to put a hand on his shoulder. 

Lovett turns to him then, cups his face between his hands, and presses his lips to Jon’s.

Jon can’t think, his brain is firing strings of _Lovett, Lovett, mine, Lovett, please, please _ that thankfully don’t make their way out of their mouth. Lovett, however, seems to have no such compunctions. 

“Fuck, fuck, Jon, _please_,” Lovett’s whimpering, his obscenely red, pretty, wine-stained mouth hanging open, too worked up to reach to kiss Jon, though he clearly _wants_ to. Jon bends down and takes Lovett’s lips between his, adding a bit of tongue and tiny nips of teeth that he knows Lovett likes. From three years ago, from the bar, where they _met_, jesus.

“Up, up, get up, get your shorts off.” Jon feels delirious, like he can’t stop wanting to touch every inch of Lovett’s skin, even though he’s already gotten his hands on his chest beneath his t-shirt, on his small pink nipples, his soft belly. Jon wants to put his face there, go to sleep. He _wants_ to be here, be here always, in Lovett’s arms, touching Lovett’s body, in Lovett’s house. 

Jon bends to take one of Lovett’s sweet, pink nipples into his mouth. Lovett lets out a loud whine that shoots straight to Jon’s dick. He palms Lovett’s other nipple, wanting more of those whines, wanting everything Lovett’s got, everything Jon’s been holding back from for all these years.

Lovett’s reaching between their bodies to grab his shorts when he’s jerked to a stop by a shrill ring.

“Ignore it,”Jon pleads, reaching out to Lovett’s shorts even as dread slowly fills him. 

“You need to answer. Jon, it’s work, it’s probably Ben.”

“I-,” Jon stops, overwhelmed. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, remembers what his mother taught him when he was six and on a plane for the first time. He steps back from Lovett, reaching in his pocket to pull his phone out. The ringing has stopped, but there’s a message waiting from Ben.

_Leaving in 1 hr, cody has copies of breakfast address ready_

As Jon stares at the screen, his heart sinking, a message from Cody comes in.

_boss wants you for ten on flight to discuss g8 speech_

“You’ve got to go.”

Lovett’s standing next to him, staring at Cody’s text. Jon hadn’t even noticed him coming up, it’s probably the only time since he’s known him that he hasn’t been aware of Lovett’s presence in the room, his every move.

“I do. He needs me on Airforce one, G8’s coming up.” Jon looks at Lovett, whose hair is mused- _I did that_, his eyes still dilated. He’s smoothed his t-shirt down over his torso, and his shorts are straightened out. 

_Ask me to stay._

Lovett shrugs. “I’ll see you for the state of the union, then. Unless you guys swing by here another time for the campaign.” He’s turned back on Jon already, walking to the dining table where his laptop’s at.

“Maybe-what are you doing for Christmas?” Jon’s not sure what he’s asking, all he knows is that Lovett’s turned his back again, and he’s going to send Jon off into the night and then act like nothing’s happened. Like they haven’t been hugging in the living room just now, made out, like Jon hadn’t been biting and sucking on Lovett’s nipples five minutes ago.

Lovett turns to look at him, back against the dining table. Jon watches as he slides himself up on it, legs swinging back and forth, feet locked together. He’s so precious that Jon’s chest hurts.

“Well, I don’t know if you know Jon, but I don’t celebrate Christmas, on account of me being Jewish. So I’ll be here writing my scripts and directing the next best thing after the West Wing.”

He pulls a face, Jon knows it’s because he unintentionally spoke in rhythm. “Maybe you want to come up to DC, spend Christmas there. Or we can-I don’t know, we can go to New York, I can get a day off, see the sights.” 

“I am from New York,” Lovett mutters, not meeting Jon’s eyes. He’s fidgeting with his hands, an agitated tick, Jon knows. Lovett thinks he needs to brace himself for this.

“I can’t do this with you, Jon,” Lovett exclaims shortly, meeting Jon’s eyes in one swoop. He always liked ripping off the bandaid quickly.

“What,” Jon asks. But he knows. He only needs to hear Lovett say it. 

Lovett laughs bitterly. ”Look, I know we joked around, we said we’ll see where it takes us if we aren’t working together anymore, but I am here and you’re there, and that was five years ago, so-”

“Four,” Jon adds quietly. Now that the axe has fallen, he’s surprised that the foreknowledge that this would come one day didn’t really blunt the pain. Lovett said _joked around._

“Yeah, four.” Lovett’s dropped his eyes again. “Anyway, I miss you, and I am sorry I acted like that earlier-”

“Lovett, no, I liked it. I wanted-I wanted it to happen.”

_Lovett misses him._

“I miss you too,” Jon contines. He wants to walk to Lovett and stand between his legs, get him to maybe wrap them around Jon’s waist. Touch his chin and make him meet Jon’s eyes.

Lovett looks up at him, eyes wide and dark. “Jon. You don’t want what I do, you don’t even know-Jon, Jon, we _can’t_-”

The phone cuts off Lovett again, and Jon fumbles to answer it, his hand shaking slightly as he presses the button.

“Yeah Cody.”

“Favs, I am in a car from the hotel, can I pick you up from Andy’s?”

Jon clears his throat. “I am actually at Lovett’s, and yeah.”

Cody doesn’t respond for a second, and Jon’s wondering if the line’s cut off when Cody’s “Alright, text me the address.” comes through.

Jon hangs up and sends the address to Cody, and watches as an “ETA 10min” comes through. When he looks up, Lovett’s got his head bent, his body still. Jon’s not sure how to break it. He’s not sure he wants to.

_Jon we can’t._

“I gotta go, Cody’s on his way here for me,” Jon lets out. He stays where he is, wondering if Lovett will look up at him. Say goodbye. 

_You don’t want what I do._

Lovett jumps off the table in one quick motion, and Jon’s painfully reminded of all the times he’s seen him do that in the White House. Lovett approaches him swiftly, and Jon thinks for one crazy moment that Lovett’s going to kiss him again, but instead, he finds his arms full of him for the second time that night.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Jon,” Lovett whispers into his chest. His arms are wrapped tightly around Jon. 

It would be easy to say “You fight with everyone, Lovett. You’re the most passionate person I’ve ever known.” So easy to ask, to wail “why don’t you want me?”

“I don’t either, Lovett.” Jon’s holding on to him just as tightly. Any second now, Lovett will step back. He does, squeezing Jon’s hips in the process, making him squeal. 

“You’re a menace.” Jon smiles at Lovett, who’s smirking. 

“Tell Vietor to stop selling all my shit online.”

“I won’t be telling him anything like that.” 

Jon walks to the door, picking up his backpack off the floor. Lovett follows him slowly as he steps through the doorway into the sultry air.

“Now make sure you keep me updated on all the gossip, Favreau.” Lovett leans on the doorframe as Jon stalls by the entrance. He can see a car pull up to the gate.

“I know you only keep me around for that.” 

Lovett smirks. “You have other uses. Like buying me Diet coke.”

Jon clears his throat. He really should not feel this fucking fond after Lovett stomped clearly on his heart, told him in no uncertain terms that Jon was just too into him for his liking.

“Good to know I am a step above a grocery store.” It comes out more acidic than he thought, and Jon adds a small smile to his wave as he swings the gate open. As the car pulls away, with Cody seemingly judging him silently next to him, Jon watches in the rearview mirror as Lovett’s reflection grows smaller, smaller, and then disappears.

xxx

“Lovett looked good, he looks like he’s having fun out there.”

Jon tries to breathe in and out quickly. Air force one is much better for his nerves than flying commercial, but the split second the wheels leave the ground always knocks the breath out of him. He stumbles out an answer.

“Yeah, he’s great, he just got his pilot picked up. It’s a political drama about the first family.”

The President smiles. Jon realizes with a pang that he’s going to miss that. 

“Didn’t Sorkin take care of that back in the day?”

Dan lets out a smile. “Our Lovett’s got a funnier version of your tenure, Sir.”

Obama rolls his eyes, laughing. Jon’s grateful to Dan for stepping in, he’s suddenly tongue-tied, his stomach filled with lead. Should he-

“When we’re back at the White House, can I talk to you about something, Sir? It’s not very urgent.”

Obama looks at him. Jon feels like he’s being x-rayed. He remembers Lovett likening their boss to Dumbledore and tries hard not to crack a smile. He manages. Almost. He registers Dan getting up and leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.

“That’s something you want to do, Jon? What Lovett’s doing?” 

Jon feels his mind clear, the weight in his stomach lifting slightly. 

“Yes Sir, I do. I’ve thought about it.”

The President stares at him for a long moment, or what Jon’s brain processes three seconds as. He continues. “These years for you, these have been the best thing that’s happened to me, and I can’t thank you enough-”

“We’ll do that later, Jon.” Obama smiles again, kindly. “Let’s go back and talk about what you’re thinking of doing. Maybe you and Lovett can get me a deal with Warner brothers if this re-election doesn’t work out.”

Jon lets out a laugh. 

“When are you thinking of leaving? I hope you’ll be around until November. I know how much you like campaigning.”

Jon wants to roll his eyes, but there are certain things he still can’t do with the President.  
“After the re-election. I haven’t fleshed it out yet, but after, definitely.”

The President claps his hands once, swiftly. “Alright then, we’ll discuss details in DC. I am happy for you man. I’ll be sad to see you go, but from friend to friend, you’ve worked hard enough here.”

Jon murmurs a “I’ve still got this speech to finish”, and then there’s Dan, knocking once, stepping back in again.

xxx

I’ll get a cab, if I ever get my fucking suitcase-” Jon’s trying not to look too anxious while scanning the conveyor belt for his giant purple suitcase. Lovett had borrowed it once, and when he’d returned it, the handle had a bright yellow-pink-blue ribbon braid on it. Jon had spent way too much playing with it and staring at it, imagining Lovett braiding ribbons (why did he even _have_ ribbons?) for a baggage identifier. 

“When you get to your house, Jon tells himself, give Lovett a couple of hours before you go bounding up to his door like a puppy. 

It’ll be hard, but Jon thinks of “_Jon, we can’t_, and then _You don’t want what I do._ If he wants to make this work with Lovett, be his uncomplicated, steady friend, he needs to let go of the memories that hound him every night, every day when he lets his mind wander, and without fail, every time he touches himself. Lovett’s wicked, brown eyes. Lovett’s voice. Lovett’s mouth, bitten red by Jon. Lovett’s smile. Lovett’s body, grinding against and over his.

“I am at Arrivals and I’ve got Shake Shack with me so you can take all your sweet time. And I warned you not to fly Delta, so you deserve every missed bag you get.”

Jon’s heart settles. Lovett’s _here_. Lovett came for _him._ He spots brightly colored ribbon on the conveyor belt attached to a dark purple suitcase, and almost falls on the belt in his haste to put a hand on it. The guy next to him gives him a dirty look, clutching his iced beverage that Jon’s almost certain contains oat or nut milk. 

“Did you hang up, Jon? Jon? Jon? Answer me, Jon. I rode all the way here to pick you up with Shake Shack and you reward me with silence? Pay attention to me, Jon.”

Jon smirks. If only their problem was lack of attention.

“I am here. I just got my suitcase. Thanks for coming to get me.” He’s racing down the escalators towards the exits for pickups. He might have maneuvered riskily around slower traffic who probably are throwing glares at him. Whatever. 

“My mom said I’ve to be nice to my neighbours.” Lovett says through the phone. Jon can hear munching. “Anyway, you should stay in my house until we go furniture shopping tomorrow. I’ve got the guest bedroom set up. Well, it’s got pillows and a bed, I didn’t really do anything. Do you want to watch Harry Potter or Star Wars? I want to do a marathon. Let’s do a marathon.”

Jon walks out through the exit into blinding sunlight. He only has to scan for a couple of seconds before he spots the beat-up car, Jon’s favorite face in the whole world smiling at him from inside. Lovett’s stretched out from the driver’s seat to stick his head out of the passenger side window. 

Jon is so _fucked._ He runs to the car, his suitcase hitting his calf with every step. There’s definitely going to be a bruise there. Jon doesn’t care.

He’s home.

xxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I also really enjoyed all the comments I received, so thanks everyone! I love jonjon a lot but until now I didn't realize how hard it is for me to write a fic without ronan and emily!:p I hope you enjoyed it if you've stuck around, and I really appreciate every comment and kudos! My tumblr name is tenisperfection


	3. Part Three: Crooked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Everything's just been too much, all the time! But here's the final part of this angsty, full-of-pining saga, just in time for super tuesday! This is the Crooked era. Please note the rating change, and the additional tags!
> 
> The Lovett or Leave It show they're attending at the beginning, and the one being referenced later in the chapter is the legendary "When there's smoke there's fire Comey" episode, AKA the finest LoLI episode ever. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! Please keep this secret and safe!

“Poor _baby_”.

There’s riotous laughter, and Jon’s been here every single Thursday now, but the crowd’s particularly wild today, lapping up every single word from the stage. Lovett’s figuratively the center of the stage and the show, but he’s sitting at one end of it, body angled towards his panel. 

Later, if asked under duress, Jon will admit with some embarrassment that he knew this was a standout show, that the panelists were on fire, that Lovett was brilliant. He’ll say that it was, of course, one of those shows where the particularly sorry state of their democracy during that week lent itself to hundred people in a room making and reveling in jokes that somehow felt timeless. At that moment, however, sitting in the second row with Tommy, Hanna, and Lizzie next to him, he’s only got eyes for one person. To Jon, every Lovett or Leave it was the same when he attends a live show- Lovett’s the center of the show, Lovett’s fucking _brilliant_, and so breathtaking Jon doesn’t so much as move his eyes an inch away from him. He doesn’t know good or great episodes until he listens to them on Saturday, he only knows Lovett.

“Lovett’s funny,” Liz whispers into his ear halfway through, her hand coming up to rest on his thigh. Jon nods without looking at her. If he could focus his attention on anything other than Lovett tearing into Sean Spicer, he’d tell her that Lovett’s more than just funny; he’s evocative, he’s so passionate and intelligent Jon sometimes spends hours waiting to talk to him in person about something on the news so he could get the blow-by-blow of it play on Lovett’s face, and yes, Lovett’s the funniest person in any room.

Liz withdraws her hand, sitting back in her chair. Jon obliquely notices Tommy looking at him. 

When the show’s over, Lovett waves to everyone and shuffles backstage with the rest of his panel. Jon’s the first one out of his seat, he usually meets Lovett backstage to soak in the atmosphere of a bouncy, excited aftershow Lovett, and sometimes go out with him for a late dinner.

He only turns back sheepishly when Tommy lets out a stern “Jon”.

“Sorry,” he says, directing his gaze at Liz, who’s looking at him with a mixture of irritation and incredulity. “I was just going to go backstage-”

“Yeah, I think I’ll just go home then. Thanks for a lovely evening, Jon.” She fastens the strap on her handbag and smiles at Tommy and Hanna.

Jon steps forward uncertainly. “I’ll take you home-”

“I live around the corner, I can just walk, thanks.”

Jon watches awkwardly as Liz joins the line to exit the club. He doesn’t say that he’ll call her. He knows he won’t. He knows she wouldn’t want him to, not after the way he behaved the whole evening.

He turns around to watch Tommy and Hanna staring silently at him.

“I’m going to go find Lovett, I hope he knows this was the best one yet.” Hanna pats Jon on the shoulder as she passes him on her way backstage.

Jon wants to follow her. Lovett complains when Jon takes too long to find him backstage. He says it’s something about needing to leave to dinner soon, _before the dominoes closes, Jon, don’t make me wait for you when I did all this hard work for our toddler company_, but Jon suspects that it’s because he needs a familiar face reassuring him that the show did go great, that people _were_ laughing and having a great time. Tommy’s only just moved here, so Jon does his part to be there for Lovett after the adrenaline rush starts crashing.

Tommy’s in his way, however. And wearing an expression Jon wishes he could say that he has never been faced with before.

“Jon, we’ve been through this,” Tommy sighs. Jon tries not to feel resentful. He loves Tommy, he knows he has Jon’s well being in mind, but Tommy’s never had to try to get over someone and fail repeatedly for the ninth year running.

“Tommy, just drop it, _please_”. Jon starts forward towards the stage, but Tommy grabs his arm.

“You know where he’s going after the show, right? You must have, he wasn’t exactly quiet about it earlier.”

“Tommy, please-” Jon knows Lovett was probably packing up even now, rushing out for drinks with the guy he had a meet-cute with at Starbucks earlier that week.

Tommy cuts him off again. “Jon. It’s been seven fucking years. Either tell him, or move the fuck on.”

_You don’t understand,_ Jon wants to yell. It wasn’t, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, Jon wants to say. And then also add, _I was doing so well._

The thing is, Jon really had been doing well with his-god, crush seems like the most belittling term he could use- relationship with Lovett. At least, better than he had when Lovett had left DC and come back to visit, _definitely_ better than the time after Jon visited Lovett in LA. Their relationship in LA reminds him of their early DC days; they were almost always around each other, but there was an easy friendship there not offset by panic that Lovett would leave. Jon is sure that this is exactly what Tommy would call fucking unhealthy, but he’s long since come to the conclusion that he doesn’t think he’s meant to live in a place where Lovett isn’t around. 

And it had been fine. Until the elections came and went and turned Jon’s life as he knew it upside down. Until they’d pushed Lovett’s shitty car and talked about doing something meaningful, about helping people get informed and start conversations and take back their country, piece by piece. 

_“Crooked. Crooked media.” Lovett intones._

_“Crooked media” Tommy says almost in a whisper._

_Jon looks at the two of them, his heart beating fast. “Crooked media.”_

Jon sometimes envies his parallel universe self who’s living in a Hillary Clinton presidency, Donald Trump long forgotten and laughed out of their conversations and homes. That Jon is probably just going about consulting, maybe writing pieces here and there, doing okay, unaware of the clusterfuck he’d stepped around. Most times he tries not to resort to the what ifs and sees the bright light in his life right now, the media company he founded with his two favorite people in the world. And they were actually making a difference, however small it may seem.

_“Holy shit Jon, we hit a million! A million downloads! Fuck!” Lovett’s eyes are shining, his mouth open in happiness or disbelief, it’s hard to tell. Probably a bit of both._

_Tommy laughs and pulls Lovett into a hug. “We’ve made it, folks. I am getting some wine.”_

Jon can probably pinpoint this as the time he began falling deep again.

_”I thought Jon was going to die during your Jared Kushner rant,” Hanna smiles, hugging Lovett as they met him backstage. Hanna moves aside to hug Tommy, and Jon can’t help it, he smiles and pulls a glowing, high-on-adrenaline Lovett into his arms. _

_“You were so good. You were brilliant. I know I was up there last time, but being down there..no one can do this like you.”_

_Lovett leans back and looks at Jon with an unreadable expression on his face, and then buries his face in Jon’s shoulder again. _

It’s hard. He doesn’t think Lovett will leave him, leave them again, but it takes his anxious brain a little more convincing when he sees an adoring crowd cheer for Lovett week after week, even during these early days. It’s hard to remember what Lovett’s doing with them when he could be selling out venues doing stand-up, writing more comedies, because he’s so fucking brilliant that he could do anything.

_This is what he wants to do and he’s never indicated otherwise so you shouldn’t be thinking about this._ The voice in his head talking sense to him sounds suspiciously like Dan’s weary one he uses when Jon’s being particularly obtuse.

“Whatever Tommy, I just want to tell him good job and go home to Leo.” _ And Pundit_, he thinks, but doesn’t voice it out because Tommy would bring up the fact that they adopted half-siblings and are practically raising them together.

Jon shakes off Tommy and escapes backstage.

xxx

“And then Lovett did that bit he does about Sean Spicer being his friend and the crowd went _so_ wild.” 

Tommy’s laughing as Hanna tells Dan and Howli the story of Lovett’s recent show over dinner. Jon’s distractedly looking at his phone, cracking a laugh at what he hopes are appropriate intervals. Lovett said he might join them. Jon knows he probably won’t, that Lovett has a second date with _that guy_ which might go well too, in which case Lovett’s going to go home with him. And then they’ll probably go on a third date and a fourth; Lovett will stop leaving Pundit with Jon when he goes out because they’ll probably stay in all the time because Lovett’s a homebody, and then Jon will try not to be bitter when Lovett brings the guy to Crooked parties.  
“Jon?”

The whole table’s staring at him as Jon starts back into reality, quickly slipping his phone into his pocket. Dan raises his eyebrows at him almost imperceptibly.

“I was asking if you want to give me a hand with the drinks.”

“Sure,” Jon rushes out, feeling a blush creep steadily up his face. He follows Dan out of the booth and to the bar, feeling slightly mulish. Maybe he should’ve refused and sent Tommy; Dan’s swiftly giving their orders to the bartender and turning to Jon with a look that’s so familiar that it sends Jon rushing back to DC.

_But he’s leaving now...so you guys can try?_

But they haven’t, because Jon’s too chickenshit to say anything, too afraid of losing the best thing in his life and his steady life in LA in one swoop. 

“You don’t have to look like you’re about to be interrogated, you know?”

“How do you know what someone looks like when they’re interrogated?” Jon asks automatically, leaning on the bar. He’s so tired. Maybe he should just beg leave of them, skip the drink, and postmates something sad. Try not to look out his window to see if the lights are on at Lovett’s.

“The number of congressional hearings we’ve seen on tv, come on.” Dan smiles wearily at him.  
“Is Lovett coming, then?”

Jon tries hard not to roll his eyes. “I don’t know, Dan. But he’ll be there for brunch tomorrow, you know he won’t miss Howli’s trips into town, he complains you guys are so far away often enough.”

Dan laughs. “You guys won’t drag us down like you did Tommy and Hanna. And besides,” Dan adds, fiddling with the receipt on the bar in front of him, “I assumed you only moved out here because Lovett was here, not for any particular draw of the city. San Fran’s much better, you know that.”

Jon shrugs. What was even the point denying it? “I did, but I also really liked it when I came to visit him that time.”

Dan looks at him almost pityingly as their bartender sets their drinks in front of them. Jon hastens to grab as many glasses as he can hold and hurries back to their booth, making a mental note to tip the bartender extra for interrupting at just the right moment.

Lovett’s laughing at Howli and squeezing her hand from across the table when Jon gets back. His whole body lurches to a stop, the inertia causing the drinks to slosh dangerously and spill out a little.

“Jon, set them down before you drop it all,” Howli smiles at him kindly. “You should hear about Lovett’s date, oh my god, what a nightmare.”

Jon moves out of the way to let Dan hug Lovett before squeezing into the booth next to him. Lovett steals his beer right away and then makes a predictable wince as soon as he takes a sip, making Jon’s heart ache. 

“So anyway, and then he asked me if I want to go away with him to Naples to his best friend’s wedding, and I ran out of there before I could remember how much I like fresh buffalo mozzarella.”

Jon laughs with everyone else. _Soon,_ he tells himself, _he’s single again, or available again. Soon. _. He steals his beer back before he can remember how many times exactly like these he’s made that same promise to himself before, over the years, and especially since the election.

xxx

“And I was like, _Sold! That’s who I want!_ Never regretted it for a day.” Jon smiles at Lovett as he finishes, watching him laugh into the microphone. Lovett’s all squirmy, and Jon tries valiantly not to embarass himself by jumping out of his seat to hug him tight until he’s stopped, until Lovett curls inside Jon’s arms and goes quiet. He thinks, not for the first time or even the tenth time, that Lovett in glasses is somehow going to be his downfall.

Jon doesn’t let this linger much in his head later as they pose for photos and chat with students in the room. He sees Lovett in deep conversation with two young students, gesturing wildly and making them laugh, and then two seconds later, earnestly guiding them through a serious point. Tommy nudges him and nods to the exit, shaking his head fondly at Lovett.

“Let’s get a Lyft, you know he complains if he waits for a nanosecond.” Tommy rolls his eyes, pulling out his phone. Jon’s about to call Lovett to him when he feels him come up and prop his chin on Jon’s bicep. 

“Stop making fun of me, Tommy.” 

Jon looks down and smiles at Lovett, feeling the oddest urge to boop his nose. He doesn’t comment on the newness of this, standing together in each others’ spaces as if they always do this. Jon doesn’t let himself think about things like this unless it’s those moments when he’s alone, eating dinner and clutching Leo close to him, hoping Lovett would bring Pundit over and stay. 

“Then stop complaining, asshole. Let’s go, the car’s almost here.”

“You tell Tommy _one time_..,” Lovett groans, moving his head away. Jon doesn’t even feel surprised at the sense of loss and disappointment that comes with this, but tries not to allow hope to blossom in its place when Lovett stays close on their way out and all through dinner.

xxx

“Hi. Everything sucks, let’s go to the dog park.” Lovett’s striding in swiftly the Saturday after they’re back from Boston, Leo’s leash in hand. Jon scoops Pundit up as she runs straight to him and whistles for Leo. 

“Buy me Starbucks,” Lovett insists as they pile into the car, the dogs in a pile on Lovett’s lap. 

“Only if you don’t say a word about my iced latte.”

Lovett groans, burying his face in Leo’s fur, who cranes his neck to lick Lovett’s neck. Jon laughs, and before he’s aware of his hand moving, reaches out to muse up Lovett’s curls.

“Ow! This is homophobia. Stop it with your straight frat boy hazing, you brute.” 

Jon glances over at Lovett, trying not to let the words settle in his chest like he’s done before, so many times. _Talk to him_, the Tommy voice that lives in his head says. _For fuck’s sake_, Dan’s voice chimes in.

It’s Hanna’s voice that stays with him as they find their usual bench at the dog park, and it’s her words that he keeps turning around in his head as he takes turns with Lovett throwing the ball to their dogs. 

_“Are you in love with him, Jon?”_

Pundit trots over to him when she tires out and he feeds her a treat out of his hand, pulling her into her lap. “Will your dad let me buy iced latte, huh, angel? It’s fun to contradict him sometimes, huh? He always looks so put down and betrayed, it’s funny.” Pundit yips.

“Stop trying to convert my dog, Favreau,” Lovett calls out, throwing the ball far for Leo. Jon takes a second to linger on the curve of his bicep, the way the light falls on it in the late afternoon sunshine.

_”What’s the worst that could happen if you just tell him, Jon? Word of advice, take it or leave it, but if your worst fear is you telling him and Lovett not reciprocating, maybe you shouldn’t be. That’s all I’ll say.”_

_“Hanna, what do you know? Has Lovett said-”_

_“Hmm. I am just observing, that’s all. Anyway, all I am saying is if you don’t tell him, you’ve got to also deal with watching him with other people and not knowing.” _

_“But say he doesn’t feel-”_

_“Jon, you really think Lovett’s the type to be cruel with rejection, especially with his best friend?”_

_Jon ties not to audibly wince at the word rejection. Hanna looks at him with a mix of what looks like sympathy and exasperation._

_“Again, talk to him. Maybe you won’t need to be prepared for rejection.”_

_“Hanna, what are you saying?”_

_“Go set the table, Tommy’s just texted that they’re almost here.” _

“Pundo understands me, don’t you, darling?” Jon presses a kiss to Pundit’s head and laughs as she licks his face, as if she senses the inner rumblings of his mind and knows he needs comfort.  
She really is an angel, Jon thinks, and for all the friendly office dog rivalry, he really wants to shout it out into the world. 

“I love you, Pundo,” he breathes into her fur, just as Leo joins his half-sister and pounces on him. “Ow, and you, Leo, I love you! Both of you!” 

“But make no mistake, I am his favorite,” Lovett chimes. 

Jon looks up at him through golden fur. His heart speeds up.

“You are my favorite.” Jon stands up, holding both dogs in his arms and walking close to Lovett, who looks up at him through his eyelashes coyly. Jon knows him well enough that he can spot the layer of uncertainty beneath, and aches to set it right.

“We get takeout, then home?” Lovett manages as they walk to Jon’s car in silence, Leo and Pundit contentedly licking Jon’s face occasionally. 

_Home_ Jon thinks. He doesn’t ask which house Lovett’s referring to. He’ll go where Lovett’s going, and stay as long as he’s allowed.

xxx

“Do you want to watch Bojack? We’re watching from where I stopped if you watched ahead without me Jon, those are the rules and you agreed.”

“You know I am not straight, right?” Jon blurts out. 

“What?” Lovett starts, distractedly pushing buttons on the remote control. 

“Lovett.” Jon reaches out to take the remote and turns the television off. 

“Yes, yes, I am listening,” Lovett parrots. “No need to cut my tv time now, come on, Jon.”

“I said I am not straight.” Jon feels his heart begin to race. He leans in and palms Lovett’s face in between his hands. Lovett looks startled, his eyes wide, but returns Jon’s kiss after only a second as Jon leans in slowly, sealing their mouths together. They kiss messily, Jon’s thumb stroking across Lovett’s jaw. _Please understand this, Lovett, please._ Jon leans back, and he spots Lovett almost swaying towards his mouth, and then stopping himself as if startled. “And I said I hope you know that.”

Lovett looks at him deeply for a second, and then laughs hollowly. “Of course I know that. Why wouldn’t I know that? Do you think I don’t remember how we actually met?”

“You said..in the car,” Jon swallows. Why was this so fucking hard? It’s _Lovett_. And they just kissed. Lovett kissed him back.

Lovett scoffs. “I call you and Tommy straight every day Jon, doesn’t make it true. At least not for you. I don’t know about Tommy. Dear diary, I guess.”

“Don’t turn this into a joke”, Jon thinks pleadingly, and is surprised to find that he’s actually voiced it when Lovett sits straighter on the couch, startled.

“Jon, what do you want from me? I just wanted to watch some fucking Bojack,” Lovett snipes. He’s agitated, Jon knows, his heart sinking. _I know you must feel some version of this, Lovett_, he thinks despairingly. _Let me just ask you what it is._

“I was thinking we should talk about us.” _Wow, that’s super clear, Jon, well fucking done._

“Us?” Lovett says blankly, predictably. Because Jon had messed up, he hadn’t been clear, he hasn’t yet, even though he’s had nine fucking years, been honest with his best friend about how he feels about him. 

“Wait, did you want to-,” Lovett begins haltingly, then shakes his head slightly. Jon thinks he can almost see the jumble of thoughts shuffling through his brain at rapid speed. “You think we should get together?”

Jon almost chokes. How did Lovett take the words right from his mouth, how did he _know_-

“Because let me tell you, I am getting real sick of Grindr and also of trying to meet people in the gym, I can’t believe Elijah suggested that.” Lovett laughs again. It’s nothing like his actual laugh; this sounds like the one Lovett puts on when he’s trying to impress a stranger. When he’s trying to pull.

“What?” Jon lets out. He wants to ask Lovett why he’s using his fake laugh on him, but the dread settling in his chest tells him that he’s going to know anyway.

“You want to hook up, right? I think it’s a good idea, I don’t work for you anymore, or, I guess we work for each other? Together? How would HR define this? Anyway,” he laughs again, and Jon wants to put his hands over his ears to block it, he wants to cry and ask Lovett not to laugh at him like that. 

He wants the words to stop.

“-if you’re up for it we can try. I read Hanna’s Cosmo, I think I can play by the rules of the friends with benefits game, what the hell.”

“Stop.” Jon’s voice comes out hoarse, like he’s been screaming out his thoughts instead of shuffling them into corners of his brain for examining in brutal, excruciating detail later. 

Lovett raises his eyebrows. “Okay, I’ll stop joking. _So_ unlike me to say this, but if we’re doing this, we should set up ground rules, so we’re prepared for when you run off to marry someone you meet at the gym.” 

Lovett laughs that laugh again, and Jon snaps.

“I don’t want to be friends with benefits, Lovett, what the actual fuck.” His voice isn’t hoarse anymore, he’s glad to note, but it’s also nothing pleasant, the tone grating to his ears. He’s never spoken to Lovett like this.

Lovett’s eyebrows go up again, his lip curling slightly with it. “Oh? What the fuck is all this then?”

“I-” Jon wants to say it all, wants to clear it all up and run out of the house, maybe never stop running. Take Leo and just go. But the words won’t come. “I am-I think I have to-” he manages.

“Jon.” Lovett quietly starts, but Jon’s not listening. There’s an odd ringing in his head that’s making everything sound muted, even Lovett’s voice, which Jon has always been attuned to like a homing beacon.

“I think I am going to head out, Leo’s getting testy. I don’t want him to pee on the carpet.” He’s out, he’s almost out, his bag’s zipped up and Leo’s leash clipped on. He wishes he had further to go than across the street.

Lovett grips his elbow as Jon makes to step out over the threshold. 

Jon stops, but doesn’t make any move to look at Lovett. Every part of him is screaming to get away, leave before his heart is stomped on again, get away from the one person Jon’s been following around since they met. He knows it’ll be fine, he’ll sleep it off. Lovett, he thinks bitterly, will pretend like nothing’s happened, just like he’d done after the bar, after the LA fundraiser. Jon gets a weekend away, maybe he can go on a long hike with Leo, and when he’s back in the office on Monday they’ll do ad reads like usual and act like Tommy isn’t glaring at them because of the odd vibe between his co-hosts. By Wednesday, Jon’s positive Lovett will be joking around with him again, Tommy’s look would have morphed to one of mild concern when he looks at Jon smiling at Lovett. 

But for that to materialize, he needs to get away from Lovett first.

“I am really tired Lovett, can we do this another time?” Jon interjects when Lovett steps between Jon and the door.

Lovett’s eyes narrow. “Do what, exactly? I haven’t done anything! If you didn’t want me implying that we should casually hook up you shouldn’t have kissed me, Favreau!”

“I don’t want to casually hook up with you, Lovett.” _Drop this, please, _ he wants to add.

Lovett scoffs, and it’s the taunting, borderline cruel one he employs when he wishes to poke at something. “Yeah I got that by the way you’re ready to run out screaming, Jon. Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Jon feels like he needs to sit down. The ringing in his head is so deafening now that he wonders if he heard Lovett right. Lovett couldn’t possibly think-

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks slowly. He’s aware that could’ve come out less clipped, but he wonders again if he should just take a giant leap off that precipice, listen to Tommy and Dan. 

“What am I talking about?” Lovett’s voice comes out at a rapid pace, always a danger sign.

“Yeah, what are you talking about?” he repeats. 

“I am talking about you!” Lovett yells out the _you_, making Jon jump. “You don’t have to act like, like you need to make up excuses when we do this, Jon! I know you don’t want anything more, that you’re cursing yourself for not grinding on Tommy or some other bro back in DC but you don’t have to be so _cruel_ about it. I was only joking, christ!”

His voice has dropped in pitch and volume by the time he finishes, and Jon’s still running what he’s heard through his mind when Lovett continues. Now Lovett’s _joking?_

“Maybe we should just take a deep breath and cool off for a few days. I’ll tell Tommy I can’t do dinner tomorrow, I’ll tell him I have food poisoning or something.” Lovett’s moving away, clearly thinking, maybe hoping Jon would go. Because, because he thinks Jon wants to leave, that Jon’s making _excuses_ to not be with him, to not kiss him. Jon almost laughs.

_I know you don’t want anything more._

“Lovett,” Jon moves forward, all he wants is to draw Lovett into his arms, hold him tight and ask him what he means and what he wants. He wants to tip his little, stubborn face and look into his eyes and ask him how he could possibly not know how much Jon wants him. “What do you mean, I don’t want anything more?”

Lovett’s eyes are darting everywhere that’s not Jon’s face. When he speaks, he sounds weary in a way he only does during days when the news cycle makes them all text in constant caps lock mode. 

“I know how you feel,” Lovett says, and Jon feels his heart skip a beat like it does when Lovett gets like this, when he pushes Jon away. Except, maybe he’s got it all wrong, because it sounds like Lovett thinks-

“I don’t mean to throw myself at you to ruin our jobs or our company or, or _this_” Lovett  
gestures wildly at the space between them. “You don’t know how fucking hard it is to be around you all the fucking time and have you be so damn nice to me always and bringing me food and taking me to dinner like I’m your-like when you talked about hiring me at the panel in Boston and you sounded like-it just messed me up again, when I was doing good. I was doing so good, damn it. You don’t know what it does to me when you talk about me like that.”

Lovett pauses, looking up at Jon finally, who realizes with a shock that roots him to the spot that Lovett’s eyes are actually wet. When he speaks, however, his voice is steady.

“Look, I know we had this thing, and that it was a one time, well, a two time thing, this almost-thing-”

“Stop saying thing,” Jon interjects nonsensically, like somehow that’s the most important part of what Lovett’s saying here.

“-For fuck’s sake, Jon, I am just trying to say that I know you maybe feel this attraction-fuck, maybe you feel like we have this thing-god, I just want to die.” Lovett closes his head like he’s in anguish, and Jon wants to laugh in spite of the total lack of humor in the situation. They were so fucked.

“Attraction? Lovett, you think I am just attracted to you?” Jon really, really wants to laugh.

Lovett opens his eyes and the look he shoots at Jon puts a lid on any urge for going off into peels of manic laughter. “Whatever the fuck it is when you grind on me, you can stop the gay panic now, thank you very-”

“Lovett, I am not just attracted to you, I am in love with you.”

Fuck.

Jon hadn’t actually meant to say it out loud, fuck, he had never even acknowledged it completely inside his head even when Hanna tried to get him to, or given a name to the lingering fear that Lovett would leave him again for better pastures.

Lovett looks at him in silence for a moment, and then, inexplicably, laughs. “Yeah, good one, Jon-”

But Jon’s had enough, he’s had enough of this whole conversation, he steps forward and takes Lovett’s face between his hands again and kisses him. Lovett grips his arm and kisses him back immediately, but after what’s probably just a second, pulls back.

“Jon,” he breathes. “Wait, what are you saying, are you kidding-”

“I am not fucking kidding, you’re so infuriating, I love you _so_ much, Lovett, kiss me, _please_.” Jon presses his lips to Lovett’s nose, his chin, his precious eyelids.

“You, you love me?” Lovett whispers, sounding too much in disbelief still for Jon’s liking. He draws back slightly to peer into Lovett’s eyes.

“Yes, I do. I don’t know, I probably have since the White House. “

Lovett stares at him for such a long moment that Jon starts worrying again, but then Lovett’s face breaks out into a smile that looks like sunshine.

“Well, I’ve got you beat there Favreau, because I liked you from the bar.”

“I did too,” Jon says, his heart beating wildly. “I liked you so much, but I knew I really loved you when you came into the speechwriting pen at seven fucking am the week before the first state of the union and made fun of my adjectives in the economy section for half an hour and then fixed everything, even though you hate waking up before eight.” 

Lovett laughs and brings his hand up to the collar of Jon’s henley, his fingers playing with the buttons. 

“They were so superlative, Jon,” he says, and then, “When you told me to apply for the job I thought you realized you made a mistake kissing me and was just deescalating in that nice guy way. ”

Jon closes his eyes. They were so stupid, fuck.

“And the time in LA when I came to visit,” he starts, but Lovett finishes it for him. 

“I thought you were just looking to hook up and experiment or something,” Lovett laughs bitterly, and it’s a sad one, but Jon notes with wild happiness that it’s at least his real one this time. “I know how pathetic the scene in DC is.”

“I am so stupid.” Jon says. “We’re so stupid,” he amends.

“Hey, now.” Lovett tugs on the collar of his henley. “You don’t want to go around insulting the guy you’re trying to date.” 

Jon leans in to kiss him again. He can’t help it. Lovett kisses back soundly, nipping Jon’s lips and drawing him close with an arm around his waist. This time, when Jon leans back to breathe, Lovett chases him unhesitantly, and Jon lets his mouth be recaptured in a kiss again.

“Are we, then?” Jon asks when Lovett presses kisses along his jawline. 

“Hmm?” That’s- that’s really good, Lovett’s so good, and he thinks he’s actually going to _date_ Lovett, holy shit.

_Try telling 2009-me this_, Jon thinks, feeling a pang of sadness creep in to taint his joy. They've waited so fucking long.

“I asked if we are dating?” He runs his thumb across Lovett’s soft, swollen, red lips. _I did that_, he thinks, feeling pride burst in his chest.

“Yes, god, Favreau, what did you think?” Lovett’s smiling in spite of his words, it’s a beautiful, bashful thing, his cheeks pinkening slightly. Jon wants to stare at him forever.

“Okay.” Jon presses a kiss to Lovett’s lips, who responds eagerly.

Wait.

“Wait,” Jon pulls back, and Lovett makes a frustrated noise like an angry cat. “Shh, wait, wait, listen.” He holds Lovett’s face between his arms again, and quickly presses a kiss to his nose, making Lovett scrunch it up. “Listen, darling-”

Lovett’s eyes grow darker and he whines, leaning closer to Jon.

“Darling,” Jon says again, thinks he’ll never get any other word out of his mouth ever again if it makes Lovett react like this. “I want to do this properly. Dating you. I want us to date. Go out and stuff.”

“We go out all the time!” Lovett exclaims, but Jon’s already noticed the pink in his cheeks brightening. 

“Not like this,” Jon murmurs, and gives Lovett’s ass a quick squeeze, making him actually yelp.

“Wait, so you’re going to have your dirty way with me then, is that it, Favreau?” Lovett kisses his neck. 

“Eventually.” 

“What?” Lovett squeaks out. “What is this, we don’t sleep together until we go on three dates?”

“One date is fine, I think,” Jon smirks as Lovett throws his head back and laughs. 

“You’re so horrible,” Lovett shakes his head exaggeratedly, his eyes crinkled up and bright, his curls mused up and wild around his ears. Jon wants to touch each one of them and kiss his ears. He can, now. He’s allowed to.

“Oh, I know.” Jon kisses the top of Lovett’s head quickly. And then again, for good measure. “I just think..we haven’t had the greatest luck just with trying to jump into bed so I want to-” 

Jon feels frustrated that the words aren’t coming out quite right. How does he tell Lovett that he’s scared they’ll break apart again before they’ve even had a chance? How can he explain the bone deep fear that he needs them to do this slowly so he can actually believe they’re doing this? Lovett deserves the proper words, but Jon’s not able to frame them.

But Lovett’s face grows soft, like he’s picked up the garbled mess in Jon’s brain and arranged it neatly to decipher the message. “Hey, I know. I was only joking- I want to date you too, Jon Favreau. Hell, high school me is cheering so fucking hard right now.”

Jon laughs, feeling overwhelmed, like he’s going to burst into tears any second. 

“That does not mean I won’t hate you for not letting me into your nice king sized bed tonight.” Lovett mock glares at him.

Jon tightens his grip around Lovett. “Oh, you’re welcome in my bed tonight. And if I have anything to say about it you’re probably not going to use your bed much. Unless I am in it too. I am really tired actually, you want to take the dogs out and go to bed?”

He’s never said that to Lovett before. He might actually cry if he doesn’t move now.

Lovett looks like he has no compunctions about not crying though, his eyes are wet again, looking at Jon through a watery smile.

“Fuck, I hate you so much,” Lovett sniffs, burying his face in Jon’s shoulder. “And yes, of course.”

“You really don’t.” Jon squeezes Lovett closer to him.

“I really don’t.” Lovett rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his lips as he lets Jon hug him.

xxx

Things don’t really change, except in all the ways that matter. 

The Monday after, they’re on fire during the recording, trading takes and jokes back and forth rapidly, making Tommy laugh his honking laugh.

Predictably, Tommy corners them as soon as Elijah stops recording and they shuffle out of the studio.

“Are you both high?” Tommy’s watching Lovett drop to the floor as Leo and Pundit come scurrying to him.

“Hmm? No Tommy, why would we be?” Jon’s laughing as Lovett wiggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly at Jon, smiling. 

“Yes Tommy, why would we be? It’s only a normal Monday.” 

Jon laughs with Lovett at Tommy’s suspicious expression.

They were going on their first date tonight.

“You guys were weird at dinner last night too,” Tommy says accusingly. Jon gives it a second and exchanges an amused look with Lovett. 

“Wait!” Tommy’s eyes are huge with surprise as he looks between the two of them. “Wait, are you two…?”

“Are we two what, Tommy?” Lovett’s voice has a teasing lilt to it as he gets off the floor and walks over to stand next to Jon, holding an armful of fluffy goldendoodles contentedly resting against his chest. Jon wants to snap a picture immediately and frame it, wake up to it every single day. _Mine._

His mind reminds him, _”slow, Jon, slow. Slower.”_

“Yes, Tommy, what?” Jon mimics Lovett, reaching out to scratch under Pundit’s chin and kiss the top of Leo’s tiny head from where he’s curled against Lovett. 

Tommy looks like he’s about to snap and cuff them both around the ears, and Jon suppresses another laugh. 

“You’re the fucking worst, jesus. So you guys finally got your heads out of your asses, then?”

“Who said anything about asses? Jon wants to _wait_, Tommy! No asses yet! He wants to serenade me and buy me all the flowers and diamonds, he said he wants to wake me up with Starbucks everyday! But he said we can only have sex after marriage, Tommy! I think it’s his catholicism-”

Jon’s laughing so hard and loud that Lovett stops halfway, smirking, and even Tommy’s chuckling by the end of it, his eyes shining.

“Wait, are you serious, then? You guys are..you worked it out?” 

Lovett answers again. “I think so,” he says, leaning against Jon, who brings up an arm to wrap around his shoulders. “I really think we did, this time.” This is followed by Lovett burying his face in Jon’s shoulder, who thinks he’s probably trying to hide the blush coloring his cheeks. 

Tommy’s looking at Jon wordlessly, his mouth curved into a soft smile. Jon smiles back, presses a kiss to Lovett’s head, and wraps his arms around him completely, dogs and all.

xxx

The ad reads don’t go without distraction either.

“Pod Save America..is brought to you by Shari’s berries!” Jon reads. Here we go.

“Ooh, Shari’s berries!” Tommy adds.

“You know, _someone_ sent me Shari’s berries yesterday. Three boxes, Tommy!”

“A secret admirer, Lovett? One of your many fans?”

Jon cuts in before Lovett can answer. “You won’t find delicious chocolate dipped strawberries like these anywhere!”

“My biggest fan, Tommy!”

“For only $19.99 using the code Crooked, you too can get your hands on these berries. Shari’s Berries!”

“Tommy, Jon-”

“Cut!” Jon yells. Chris raises his eyebrows at them, and Jon turns to shake his head at Lovett. 

“Should we do over? Didn’t Jon speak really fast? Didn’t he, Chris? Let’s go ask Tanya!” Lovett yells, making to get up. Jon rolls his eyes at him. He can’t stop the smirk teasing his mouth. 

Tommy looks between the two of them comically enough that Lovett and Jon both start cracking up.

“I hate you both and I quit.” 

“Okay Tommy, we’ll send you some please-come-back berries!” Jon throws his head back in laughter as Tommy flips them off on his way out.

Jon looks over at Lovett, and it feels like his insides are on fire when he finds Lovett already looking at him.

_Three hours._ Lovett texts him an hour later in their offices. And then, a bunch of hearts and kisses, and of course, peaches. Jon looks up and smiles at Lovett and sends back a string of berries and hearts, before glancing back at Lovett and blowing him a kiss. 

Tommy’s laughter almost ruins Jon’s enjoyment of Lovett going red. Almost.

xxx

“Your stupid fucking plan,” Lovett seethes. He’s got his head hanging out of the window, looking far out into the array of cars stretching endlessly in front of them. “Lovett, let me wine and dine you!” he mimics, turning around to glare at Jon, who tries hard not to smile. 

“That’s not what you were saying when you were playing footsie with me at dinner.” Jon reaches to squeeze Lovett’s socked foot over where Lovett’s inexplicably folded up in the passenger seat with his feet up, seatbelt somehow still intact. He rubs tiny circles on Lovett’s delicate ankle bone with his thumb. The action helps calms him down.

“If we hadn’t been in public and I wasn’t averse to public fornication..” Lovett starts, and there’s a slight edge to his voice. _I did that,_ Jon thinks. 

“What?”Jon wants to grab Lovett and abandon the car, maybe run all the way home. The dogs are at Tommy and Hanna’s, with both of them winking at them multiple times as they told them they’ll pick the dogs up early the next morning.

“I don’t think I even remember what I ate,” Lovett confesses, intertwining his fingers with Jon’s at his ankle. 

Jon rolls his eyes. “Okay, you spent twenty minutes choosing between the margherita pizza and the spaghetti pesto only to bully me into getting the pasta so you could have bits of both, so I really hope you remember.”

Lovett glares at him, but Jon can see he’s trying hard to hold up his facade and not let a grin overtake his face. “Is all the romance in this relationship dead already? Here I am, just trying to tell my partner that I was distracted by his beautiful, marble-like face,-”

“Partner?” Jon’s hand stills at where it had been rubbing circles onto the soft skin of Lovett’s hand.

“Yeah, doesn’t boyfriend sound juvenile? We’re in our mid-thirties, not in college. Oh. Oh, unless you’re asking..I mean I know we didn’t discuss it yet but I thought, we said we were dating, so I thought-”

“Lovett,” Jon cuts him off, leaning forward to kiss him, feeling like he’ll die if he doesn’t get his mouth on Lovett’s right this instant. Lovett whimpers and immediately presses as close to Jon as his seatbelt would allow, clutching his face and licking into his mouth eagerly. 

It’s only the roar of engines starting back to life that makes them pull apart, Jon hastily gunning the car back to life. Lovett immediately places a hand on Jon’s thigh, steady and proprietary.

“Partner sounds good to me, Lovett.” Jon flashes a smile at Lovett as they _finally_ move down the freeway. Jon feels the word settle low in his stomach as warmly as it did on his tongue when he said it. _Partner_. There’s something about the seeming permanence of it that makes Jon feel like he’s been lit on fire. 

He doesn’t need Lovett to tell him to take him home to press down on the gas and drive as fast as he legally can.

xxx

“Now, please, _please_, Jon,” Lovett sounds so close to tears as Jon dives back in and licks into him again, relentlessly driving his tongue as deep as he could take it into Lovett, holding down his hips firmly with both hands. Jon’s not given him any reprieve, poor thing, his cock so hard and red and untouched that it must almost hurt Lovett now.

Jon draws back out again, and Lovett screams. “Jon!” He’s angling his ass back towards Jon desperately, who’s pressing kisses on Lovett’s round, perfect ass, the dip of his spine, and all the way up his back, making sure to add teeth every now and then to make Lovett whine. 

“Fuck”, Lovett sobs, his hips valiantly trying to angle his body to get some friction against his cock, but Jon’s arms are holding them steady off of the bed. 

“Shh,” Jon whispers, kissing Lovett’s neck, flushed and sweaty. He kind of wants to live here forever. “Shh. What do you want, sweetheart? I’m going to give you everything you want. Are you doing okay?”

Lovett, if anything, sounds like he’s been gut punched. Jon’s learnt early enough that using pet names and getting eaten out (maybe just by me, maybe both just by me, he thinks) were Lovett’s true undoings. 

“Darling, I have to know, come on, are you doing good?” Jon rests his body against Lovett’s gently, trying not to squash him. _He’s so tiny_, Jon thinks, _he fits so well into my arms._ Jon has to draw in a couple of very deep breaths to stop himself from coming right then.

“I am good,” Lovett murmurs into his pillow, turning his head to look at Jon, his eyes dark. Jon leans up to kiss the tear tracks drying on his face. “I want you to fuck me,” Lovett whispers. 

Jon kisses Lovett’s cheeks, and then his nose and forehead, making him giggle sweetly, looking up at Jon through his wildly mussed up curls.

“Kiss me first though, Jon, it’s been hours and I demand to be kissed always, come on, Jon.” Lovett finishes on a whine even as Jon leans in to kiss him. Always. He always wants to give Lovett everything he wants. 

“I kissed you in the living room for at least twenty minutes,” Jon mutters against Lovett’s bitten-red lips. Lovett still tastes like Jon’s favorite flavors, honey and rum. He wonders if Lovett remembers if that’s what he drank all those years ago, minutes before he’d dragged Jon on to the dance floor and changed his life. 

“Yeah, but then we blew each other and I came like, twice, so now I don’t remember anymore.”

“You’ve got one more in you?” Jon leans over Lovett’s pliant body to dig around his dresser, reaching for the lube and condoms. 

“I-I think so, since-” Lovett stops, gulping down air. Jon snaps open the lube audibly and squeezes a liberal amount onto his fingers. 

“Yeah? Since I put you on your front and ate you out? Since I refused to let you come, for the third time? Since then, baby?” 

Lovett moans loudly, and Jon’s profoundly thankful that they aren’t in DC anymore, where loud sex wasn’t a luxury their cramped apartments would have afforded. He slowly circles Lovett’s rim, already puffy to the touch from Jon’s ministrations earlier. He’s rewarded with another moan as he inserts a finger in. 

“You’re so tight still, _fuck_, baby,” and then, “I love this, I think I might come the second I put my dick in you, Lovett.” 

Lovett lets out a truly filthy whine at that. Jon quickly puts another finger in, moving them both in and out slowly. 

“_Why_ are promises of premature ejalucation doing it for me, god,” Lovett adds a second alter, and Jon lets out a burst of laughter. So much for dirty talk, of course Lovett’s the only person who can make him laugh during sex. Jon loves him so much he wants to stick his head out their window and scream it out to passers-by.

_You see him? Jon Lovett? Yes, he chose me. He loves me. _

Jon knows they haven’t said it properly to each other yet, even though their confessions last night were all about love. He wants it phrased properly, maybe it’s the speechwriter in him, but he thinks it’s important that Lovett knows, that Lovett always knows.

“Because I love you, and I hope you know that.” It’s not the poetic string of words Jon would’ve wanted to give Lovett almost a decade ago, and certainly not the answer to Lovett’s question, but one born out of the moment, and perhaps born out of waiting for this moment for what has been the majority of his adult life.

“Weird, that was going to be my answer to why _I_ came early.” Lovett’s smiling ear to ear as he leans in to kiss the laugh off of Jon’s mouth.

“I haven’t laughed this much during sex, ever.” Jon feels another bout of giggles again, wondering if the momentousness of the occasion was making him light-headed.

“You’ve never slept with a comedian, what can I say?” Lovett’s sucking a mark into Jon’s neck now, alternating between light kisses and nips with his teeth. “I love you so much, you asshole.” It’s murmured into his neck, but Jon feels like Lovett might have as well announced it to a live crowd.

He kisses Lovett again as he fucks three fingers in and out of him, amping up the pace steadily until Lovett’s panting into his mouth, begging. 

“Please, please, Jon. Fuck me, inside me, now, please!” 

Jon doesn’t need any more directions.

He rolls the condom onto his hard cock, hissing as his heart races and his balls tighten at the touch. Shit, he’s going to come the second his cock touches Lovett’s ass, isn’t he? He’d thought the moments of emotional sappiness would’ve calmed him down, but his libido seems to have gotten the contrasting idea.

“I might not last long,” he warns Lovett as he lines his cock up with his hole, nudging against it slowly. Lovett doesn’t reply as he lets Jon maneuver a pillow under his hips, though he starts whimpering as Jon’s cock slowly penetrates him. 

“Fuck.” Jon’s feeding his cock into Lovett’s tight hole as steadily as he can without breaking and coming. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot, Lovett. You’re going to be the death of me. I am not even fucking you yet and I might come, fuck.”

“No,” Lovett whines. “Fuck me, please, I’ve been..I waited-” He stops speaking abruptly when Jon’s all the way in, eyes closed tightly liek he’s trying to stave off his orgasm. 

“Yeah?” Jon lets the word roll out his tongue when he feels calmer, moving his hips minutely, making Lovett moan with every thrust. “You waited for this? You wanted me to do this back in DC, baby?” 

Lovett’s mouth is hanging open, gasps falling out of them as Jon speeds up. He feels energized now, like Lovett’s rising pleasure was helping him keep his own at bay. Lovett first. The only noises in the room are the moans coming out of Lovett’s mouth, and the slap-slap-slap of Jon’s hips thrusting against Lovett’s ass. 

“I did too. I wanted to fuck you that night on the dance floor. You remember? I wanted to beg you to take me home. And then every day back in the White House. And again when I came to see you in LA, do you remember, Lovett? I wanted you _so_ bad, tell me you remember, baby.”

“I-I remember. Jon,” Lovett sobs. Jon thinks it might be his undoing that he knows Lovett cries in bed when he’s overwhelmed, even though he’d panicked so much when it had happened the first time Jon had gotten his mouth on Lovett’s cock.

They are fucking so fast now that the bedsprings are creaking, and Jon curves a hand over Lovett’s head to stop him from hitting the headboard at a particularly hard thrust. Lovett’s still so tight around him, and Jon feels like he’s going to burst into a million pieces as he runs a hand hastily over where they are joined to pick up some lube. Lovett sounds so dazed when Jon touches his cock finally that all it takes is a couple of thrusts for him to come with a whine, his spent cock spurting out threads of come onto his stomach and all over Jon’s hand. 

“Lovett, can I, please, can I stay-” Jon’s so close that he comes the second Lovett nods, his pupils dilated so wide his eyes look black. It takes Jon what feels like hours to come down from his high, his cock slipping out as he holds Lovett tightly in his arms. Jon tries to steady his hand several moments later as he carefully removes the condom and ties it up deftly, pressing a quick and hopefully reassuring kiss to Lovett’s mouth as he untangles himself on his way to the bathroom.

He tries to put himself through the motions as quickly as possible, and is back running a wet towel through the mess on Lovett’s stomach a minute later, throwing it aside once he’s done.

Lovett lets himself be held against Jon’s chest as he slips back into their warm bed. “Jon,” Lovett starts a moment later, drawing back in the circle of Jon’s arms to look at him quizzically.  
“Are you-are you okay?”

Jon can feel them shaking slightly, and a second later realizes it’s him.

“I’m fine,” he says, tightening his hold around Lovett, pressing his lips to his forehead. “I am fine, I think I am just...I think I am just happy.”

_Please don’t cry_, Jon tells himself pleadingly. Haven’t you done enough of that over the years?

“Hey,” Lovett says, kissing Jon’s cheek. “Hey. I am here. I am here now, okay? I love you so much.”

Jon lets his eyes well up. Screw this, if he can’t do this in front of Lovett, he probably doesn’t deserve all the preachings of honesty and commitment he’s been giving himself.

“I just..what if we don’t?” 

“We don’t what?” Jon can sense the tiniest bit of impatience in Lovett’s voice at that, at how he can never resist digging deep into people’s hesitancy until he’s dissected and analyzed the source of it. It is this familiarity that calms Jon down more than anything. It’s _Lovett_. 

“What if we don’t work out?” Jon lets out, and is proud that his voice is steadier.

Lovett stares at him silently for a second, and then pulls Jon into another kiss. “Did I ever tell you what I told myself when I left the White House?” he asks as he draws back.

Jon shakes his head. It’s weirdly comforting to him again, this feeling that he knows what's coming- Lovett’s about to frame something in the larger context of a rant. Jon recognizes this. Lovett’s not on a bar stool gesturing wildly now to a crowd of people. He’s in bed, naked in Jon’s arms, so beautiful that Jon wonders if he’s breathed since they left the office for their date earlier in the day. Maybe Jon’s been breathless since he heard the loud voice at the bar nine years ago and turned around.

“I promised myself that I’ll do everything to get over you, to stop feeling like I had a chance now that I’d left, because why would you want me when I am thousands of miles away when you never did when we were in the same office? No, no, I know now, we were both quite misinformed, I know that.” Lovett presses his hand against Jon’s cheek as if in reassurance, who’s opened his mouth to tell Lovett that he still wasn’t quite sure what he would’ve picked back in the day, given the choice between his job and doing this with Lovett. 

He knows it crystal clear now.

“I just couldn’t. And then you came to LA for the fundraiser, and I was just so gone for you after that. I only wanted you closer, Jon. I told myself then, I changed my promise, so what if I can’t have you? I’ll have you as near me as I can, make you laugh. I just always want to make you laugh.” Lovett’s smiling wetly at him, his lips wobbling a bit. Jon rushes to kiss it. 

“That’s what I wanted too,” Jon confesses. “I just wanted to be close to you. I thought I could be fine with just that.”

“God, we’re both such big losers,” Lovett says, rolling his eyes. “The point is, I’ve wanted you from the get go and I’ve loved you for so long that I don’t think I am stopping anytime soon or at all, so you can push that worry out of your head. I tried valiantly to stop at one point, trust me, and it didn’t work, so I think if you and I are actually working to make this happen..I think we’ll be fine, Jon. Hanna’s only been telling me forever, and I think I actually believe her.”

“We always did work well together,” Jon whispers, his voice choked with tears. He leans in and accepts the kiss from Lovett, holding him so tight he gives it another two minutes for Lovett to complain about being cuddled to death.

It never comes. 

xxx

“I’ll go get the dogs,” Jon whispers against Lovett’s lips early morning. 

“Mmm, no, you’re warm.” Lovett buries his head against Jon’s chest and wraps his legs around him like a koala. “Tell Tommy to walk them himself.”

“He’s going to complain that we’re shitty parents who abandoned them to get laid.” Jon’s already pulling his phone out. He’s whipped. Whatever.

“Tell him we’ll do all the ad reads next week. And he should be thankful, he owes us for finally dealing with all the rampant sexual tension. Shh. Sleep, now. One hour.”

“Love you,” Jon murmurs into Lovett’s curls as he closes his eyes. He hears it whispered back, and it settles into the dawn enveloping them as they slip off into sleep together.

xxxxxxxxxxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I really hope you found this a satisfactory ending to the story. I tried not to make it be too angsty, or draw it out too long.
> 
> I'd love it if you could take a second to tell me what you think! All of your kudos and comments are much appreciated, please know that I read every one of them and squeal at them!
> 
> Happy Super Tuesday, folks! May the odds ever be in your (candidate's) favor.
> 
> I am tenisperfection on tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this silly story! All kudos and comments are much appreciated. If you want to send me any prompts for the next couple of parts, please send them over to tenisperfection.tumblr.com. :)


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